Set to Self Destruct
by DeathByMushrooms
Summary: With their separation imminent and Meredith working with Doctors Without Borders, Derek takes their son to see the ocean. ADDEK. Set about six years into the future, AU after S6.
1. If There's a Rocket, Tie Me To It

A/N: O hai! So, I wanted a happier Addek story to tell after the last one which was just … depressing, really, for an Addek fan. So this is it. For the most part, I think. It will mostly take place in L.A., with perhaps some Seattle and/or New York. We shall see. And it will mostly be from Derek's POV, but obviously can deviate to other characters' points of view, too.

The title comes from the song _If There's a Rocket Tie Me To It _by Snow Patrol, as does the chapter title (obviously).

Let me know how you like it or if you think I should scrap the whole thing.

* * *

"Derek!" she shouted for what seemed the first time, though he was sure he had heard that word cut across her lips more than once in the last few seconds he had been standing there, numb. _Numb_, he thought. _Good wordage_. If there was one thing he could say to her to make her understand, it was that he was numb. His head buzzed with the shock of it.

"_Derek_, are you even listening to me?" She raised her arms in exasperation, and then let them fall to her sides in defeat. She looked different somehow, from the last time he had looked at her—actually _looked at_ her. How long ago had that been, anyway? He saw her every day, but that wasn't the same as how he used to actually _look _at her every single chance he got. Why didn't he realize this earlier?

"Yes… Meredith, yes, I'm listening." But he wasn't. He could hear her clearly—she was only feet away from him, after all. But just like he hadn't looked at her in an immeasurable amount of time, he hadn't really _listened_ to her, either.

"Christ, Derek. What is wrong with us?" He had expected anger and shouting and pointing out one of the flaws she seemed to find more and more of each day. But instead, he was surprised to hear a deflated tone of exasperation when she spoke.

He sighed heavily and crossed the length of the kitchen to lean against the sink next to her. He looked her straight in the eye, hoping to find a remnant of what he once saw there, but was unable. Things had changed, he knew. "I don't know, Meredith… I don't know. But I think that whatever we're doing now—it's not working."

"We are supposed to be going to Sudan in a week. But, here we are." She smiled mirthlessly, not looking at him. "Here we are in Seattle, fighting. Typical."

"It is. Typical, I mean." He didn't know what else to say; the numbness was pervasive.

"That's what I'm trying to say, Derek. I don't know when we last connected. We're constantly creating friction. Our lives are just … going two different directions. You don't want to do this. You say you do, and you pretend to be all happy with it, but you don't belong in Sudan. You know that."

"Meredith—" he started to protest, but fell silent when he remembered that she was right. Sudan was her thing, what she wanted. He had never wanted to participate. But Meredith had a way of getting him into things he had no business getting into. "You're right."

She nodded, like the revelation was not news to her. Derek wondered if she had planned this conversation, or if it really had been just another argument that had escalated into something different. He had trouble believing that. She walked away from him and sat down at the kitchen table, folding her hands in front of her. Her expression was familiar; he had seen it a thousand times if he had seen it once. It was the same detached-yet-sympathetic look all surgeons had crafted for the sole purpose of relaying bad news to the loved ones of their unluckiest patients. But Derek could not shake the feeling that this was not bad news.

"Maybe you should go," he suggested, attempting to smile like nothing was the matter. "This is what you've planned, what you've wanted to do for years. And now the timing is right. Everything is perfect, everything is squared away, you gave your word, and you have these non-refundable tickets... I don't want to hold you back, Meredith. That's the last thing that I want to do."

She smiled up at him, but it still was not the same smile he remembered. "I know," she stated simply. "What about James? I know, Mark and Lexie offered to keep up with him, and there's your mother, plus Nancy—"

"I am capable of taking care of our son you know." His words were wry, but he allowed a smile.

"Maybe you should travel. James doesn't start school for another year; this would be a good opportunity for you both to, you know, see the world or whatever."

There was a heavy pause as both contemplated what exactly they were discussing. Meredith was going to Sudan, to donate her surgical skills and time—alone. And she thought it would be a good idea if he took their son—their only son—on random excursions while she was away. She tried, when it came to James, she tried very hard. But Derek knew she was never meant for children. Anyone could tell, but of course no one would or could say anything. She lacked the proper skills to bond with her son, and while Derek didn't blame her—given her own childhood and relationship with her parents—he didn't know how to help her. Wasn't it all supposed to be internal and natural? He couldn't force that.

"That could be a good idea. At the very least, maybe we could hit the beach for a while. You know how much he loves the ocean. I think he'd like that." _No_, he thought, _be honest, _you_ would like that_. But James did love the ocean and all the creatures in it; marine life was his favorite.

"I think this will be good for us," she said, and he was sure she must have practiced her lines before a mirror. "Doctors Without Borders requires two months minimum activity, and I signed up for six months. We could really benefit from this."

Derek smiled at the sincerity in her voice. She really wanted to make their marriage work, and he admired that. He couldn't, if he was honest with himself, find the courage to say the things she was saying. He was a coward, had always been a coward underneath his confident exterior. He knew Meredith had figured that out shortly into being married to him, and he wasn't surprised that she seemed to change her mind about him somewhat. He was supposed to be the knight-in-shining-armor type. But he would never really, internally be that person. He wasn't McDreamy, he was Just Derek, and Just Derek was a coward who was afraid to admit to himself and to his wife that his marriage was a sham. But he loved her. He couldn't recall the last time he had told her in earnest, or proven the fact to her, but he did. She was Meredith, who couldn't love her? She was his wife, the mother to his son. Of course he loved her. Lately things had just been unresponsive between the two of them. They didn't finish one another's sentences or riskily have quickies in the on-call room anymore. In short, Derek knew they had succumbed to the duly tedious routines of a five-years-married couple.

"You could say something," she put in quietly.

"Oh, I agree. Time apart, that's what we need. You go to Darfur, save lives worth saving. I'll take time off and take James fishing and other manly activities." This was what their conversations had been reduced to: summaries of the other's words just to prove you were listening. And Derek had not even been succeeding well at that of late.

"Great." A smile flitted across her face for a brief moment before she looked away from him, and down at her hands in what looked to be guilt. "I was thinking, Derek, maybe we should—just as a test run—file for separation." She spoke gently, not wanting to cause hurt.

But Derek's numbness to the situation was as unrelenting as ever. He nodded and pretended to give the matter great thought, though his mind was elsewhere. "Okay," he said simply. His eyes met hers for only a second, and they both looked away quickly.

"I guess that's that, then," said Meredith awkwardly, and she got up from the table and walked away without a second glance, leaving Derek alone in the kitchen with his buzzing head and apathetic thoughts.

---

Eleven-hundred miles away from the Shepherds' kitchen, Addison Forbes Montgomery was irritated.

"I don't _have to_!" A five-year-old with her mother's eyes stamped her foot and balled her fists angrily.

"Carson." Addison was trying to retain her patience and keep the urges to scream at bay. "I am your mother, and what I say goes."

The dark-haired girl let out a shrill scream. Her mother stood from the kneeling position she had been in and threw her hands up in exasperation. Her daughter was strong-willed and quick-tempered; she was haughty and smart and vivacious. She was in every way just _impossible_.

"You have to wear clothes to school, Carson."

"No I don't, who says? Nobody ever says you can't wear clothes to school, Mom. Nobody ever _says_ that so you _can_."

"How many people do you see running around without clothes at school?" _Great_, Addison thought, _I'm reasoning with a kindergartener._ "Wait, no, _I_ say that. Now, put your skirt on."

"I didn't have to wear clothes in preschool," Carson countered stubbornly.

"That was preschool. Now you're in kindergarten. That's big-kid school, Car. You don't want to look silly in front of Lucas and the other big kids do you?"

"No…" She looked away quickly, a pink flush creeping into her cheeks.

Addison had to bite back a smile; her daughter's first crush was on seven-year-old Lucas Wilder. And it was too cute. "It's settled then. You'll put your clothes on and you'll _keep_ them on."

"I guess," she mumbled. But she turned to her little white-and-pink dresser and yanked out her school uniform.

"Don't forget socks," Addison reminded as she stood to leave the room.

"Duh..."

Choosing to let that one go, Addison headed for the kitchen. It was almost seven a.m., and it was well past time for coffee. Carson's sudden declaration that she had decided not to wear clothes anymore had interrupted her morning rituals that had been in place since Carson started school almost a year ago. She could hardly believe this was the fifth November she had shared with her daughter. Five years. It seemed surreal. It had been a hard decision to come by, to have Carson in vitro and give up completely on finding the man who was supposed to fill the hole in her soul. She had dated, and had casual sex, and once she thought she had been in love. But nothing was right.

"Mommy!" Carson was now bounding down the stairs. "I need a smoothie." The little girl was standing in front of her, wide-eyed and imploring. She was well too demanding for her age. Addison didn't know what else to do with her though; she could only do what she knew to do.

"Mommy doesn't have time to make you a smoothie, sweetheart. There's yoghurt in the fridge, you can have one of those."

"I don't want—"

"Carson Montgomery. I don't have time for this. I made toast, and there is juice and yoghurt in the fridge. You can have some, or you can eat breakfast at school. Either way, we need to go."

Carson huffed and stomped to the refrigerator, pulling out what she wanted and placing it on the counter. Addison wrapped up two pieces of toast in a paper towel and poured orange juice into a tumbler. She took her daughter's free hand and after what seemed a ridiculously long morning, they were finally heading out the door.

---

Sam Bennett was on his way out the door at fifteen past seven. That meant he was running late. He was running around the house trying to find his cellular when he heard it ring on the deck.

He groaned. "I hope it didn't rain last night," he muttered to himself. Running outside, he pressed "answer" and, not recognizing the number simply said his name as an answer.

"Sam!" said a familiar voice on the other end.

"Derek? What's up?" He checked his watch nervously as he locked his front door and headed to his car. Derek wasn't exactly the greatest about keeping in touch. Since he and Naomi had divorced they had seen one another maybe three times.

"Does something have to be up?"

Sam unlocked the car and stepped inside. "Well, yes, I would assume so, since you've not made contact in almost two years."

"I know." Derek's voice sounded so heavy he almost felt guilty for giving him the third degree. "And I realize this isn't exactly orthodox, but I need a favor."

"Sure," he automatically responded. Years of friendship meant something to Sam. Even if the past fifteen years had been scattered and really only amounted to a few days spent together—Derek was still his friend. "What do you need?" He buckled himself in and was prepared to leave.

"I need a place to stay."

* * *

A/N: Reviews plz? Kthxbai.


	2. The Weight of Us Both

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. My computer is about to throw in the towel, plus finals, and now a winter intersession class (statistics are the most interesting things on the planet… not really). I much prefer to take my time and have you all wait rather than pump out a bunch of garbage every couple of days—quality not quanity! :-P I hope everyone had happy holidays—and may you NEVER go to college; it is the death of people, I swear. This story doesn't have a very strict outline at all; just kinda going with the flow, which is new for me, so we'll so how it goes.

The chapter title comes from the song _How to be Dead_ by Snow Patrol. I've decided to use lyrics from their songs for all of the chapters, what do you think? Any fans out there? I saw them in Atlanta in October, and I've gotta say, they're bloody freaking amazing. /End plug.

* * *

It was strange staying in their home without her. It had been her house first. And then somewhere along the line it became _their_ home. And when James learned to walk, it became _his_ territory; his parents just slept there. But shortly after that, it just became a common place of convening. It hadn't been _their_ home in quite some time. Though it had only been two days and a night, things already felt completely different. Perhaps it was partly his fault. But the worst part was that he could not, despite every effort, bring himself to care.

He had taken the day off from work today, something he had not done in ages. Meredith had been sleeping at Cristina's, which had made the previous day rather awkward. He and James would be leaving the next day, so going into work for just another day didn't make much sense, especially when there was still so much to be done. At least, that was the story he had given Bailey, when he told her she would be taking over a bit earlier than planned. What he was doing was not commonplace; up and leaving a hospital as the head of surgery for the sole purpose of getting away for a couple of months. Especially when the whole hospital—with the exception of Meredith, Cristina, and Owen Hunt—thought he was going to volunteer in recovering Darfur.

In reality, Derek didn't like to think of what lay ahead in California. It made him nauseous, but at the same time, he could not wait to get out of Seattle. Sam had been more than happy to help, but Derek could tell by the awkward tone in his voice that either something was up on his end, or, more likely, that Sam thought it strange that Derek would call him out of the blue in need for a place to stay. Sam had been in a hurry, so the two had not had the chance to converse on the subject for very long. He had simply agreed to let him stay over for as long as he needed, and asked no further questions. He hoped California wouldn't be awkward. He needed friends. Mark and Lexie had withdrawn from society for the past month, since their daughter was born. And that left Derek, without Meredith, with no one but—

"Dadddddeeeeeeeee!" _Speak of the devil_, Derek thought as he sat up from the lying position on his bed just in time for a four-year-old with wavy dark hair and catlike eyes he had inherited from his mother to take a run-and-go at his chest, knocking him back down, and sending the wind out of him.

"Whoa, Jamie, _whoa_. You're getting too big for that…" He coughed and laughed at the same time, sitting back up slowly. Meredith said he was too easy on their son, letting him get away with far too much. But James was a very submissive child: never asking for much, never getting into much. Derek simply thought it was best to let him have his way with things when he actually _did_take it upon himself to have his way with things.

"I'm not Jamie today," he said seriously, settling into his father's lap.

"Oh, no?" Derek grinned. "Who are we today then?"

James threw his head back and giggled, then placed his hands seriously on his father's shoulders. "I am Aquaman."

"Oh no! Aquaman? I guess that makes me an enemy of environmentalism? What are my crimes?"

"You did a oil spill in the ocean! You hurt the fishies and the whales!"

Derek smiled whole-heartedly at his son; he had lately been telling everyone he met that "whales aren't fish, you know." He was quite the little marine expert. At first it seemed like a phase he was going through, but James had been stuck on it for months now without loss of enthusiasm. Derek was happy to let him carry on with his interests, hoping it would be of assistance in getting him out of his shell. James was a normal boy around his parents, but sometimes had a hard time connecting with other children.

"I did no such thing!" He jumped up from the bed. "And even if I did, what are _you_ gonna do about it, _Aquaman_?"

"I'll blast you! I brought my phototonic res'nationer!" He stood up, pulling a crumpled and bent paper towel roll colored with red and black crayons out of his pocket.

Derek had to hold back a smile; the boy watched far too much of the Science Channel, and it was clearly having an effect. But it was better that than some other so-called children programming. "C'mon, 'photonic resonationer,' we have business to do today."

"Business?" James dropped the Aquaman act as quickly as he had certainly acquired it.

"Yep. We're going to see your auntie Naomi and—"

"Mister Sam?" James offered.

"Heh, yes."

"What about Uncle Mark and Aunt Lexie? I thought I was gonna go stay with _them_ and you and Mommy would go help the people across the ocean."

Derek stalled by tugging at the sheets, pretending to make them without much care; he had not fully decided how to tell his son that his mother wanted to file for separation, not because they didn't love one another, but because they needed to know they should be together and that their relationship was not out of habit. It wasn't the sort of subject he imagined having to explain to James when he was born, or even so recently as a year ago. Derek's love for Meredith was a no-brainer. It always had been. Of course he loved her. But how could he explain this to their son? He didn't know what to say.

"Well, it turns out—" he said slowly, "—that they only need Mommy for right now. So me and you are going to go to California, and you'll get to see all the fishies, okay?"

"There are sharks in the real ocean, Dad."

Derek felt relieved. As long as he could keep him occupied on the fishies and whales long enough to come up with the right words to say, everything would be okay.

--

Meredith Grey-Shepherd had known what she wanted from the moment she chose Derek-the-brain-surgeon over Finn-the-vet. Probably before that, too, but those days were very fuzzy and mostly consisted of sleepless shifts and too much tequila. She knew she wanted Derek; to marry him, to grow old with him and have his children—though most likely not in that order.

And now, she had what she wanted; what she had longed and fought and begged for. She had Derek Shepherd. But somehow, it was not at all what she had imagined. Their days of post-post-it bliss had been just that. Their marriage then was perfect. But then Derek made chief, and Meredith peed on fifteen sticks before working up the nerve to have Cristina confirm what she already seemed to fear. Derek was elated, possibly the happiest she had ever seen him. It felt odd to marry him, awkwardly standing in front of a plump man in judge's robes. Her perfect husband beamed the entire time. Meredith's insides were twisting without remorse. That sentiment summed up the next seven months of cravings and vomit and reduced hours in the OR for her quite well.

Before she knew it, James Carson Shepherd was there. And then Derek was just gone. If he wasn't busy running a floor of scalpel-wielding drama queens, he was with James (or "Jamie" as Derek called him—Meredith wasn't very good with pet names, even the easy ones). His work was cut out for him. He had reached the top of his career, and his life was on cruise control. But for Meredith, things had just begun. She was still a resident, stuck in a process that seemed like it would never end. And in marrying him and giving him a son and heir, she had just become a part of someone else's dream.

She had a son—a beautiful, clever, mindful son—but she could not bond with him. She loved him and she _tried_, but there was simply something missing. Some chemical reaction in her brain that should have made James truly _hers_ seemed to just not exist. He was more like Derek than even Derek himself, quite possibly, and that itself was hard _not_ to love. But on some level; in some dark, deep recess of her mind; she felt a certain twinge of resentment towards her only child, the thing that had taken Derek from her.

And before she knew it, she could hardly stand Seattle Grace and its reclamation of the number one surgical program in the nation—under the skillful and compassionate guidance of her perfect husband, of course. The husband she so sorely missed…

So she came up with a plan to take them away from it all. James would stay with her sister, and she and Derek would volunteer for Doctors Without Borders.

At first, it seemed perfect. She would miss her son and friends—for all her faults and cynicism, that much was true. It would be like their post-it days again: the two of them, alone, fighting for what they believed in and what was right. Maybe a few months in Sudan would be just the ticket for getting their lives back together. She would be able to tell him everything there, just how she felt and what could be done to make it better, and life would be wonderful again.

But as the days wore on and as she grew more and more excited for their departure, Meredith began to realize that Derek was not quite as excited. When she broached the subject, he seemed to merely agree with her rather than bring anything new to the conversation. He spoke heavily about his plans to leave Bailey in charge, always stressing and fretting and blowing the situation out of proportion. He spent even more time with James, awkwardly avoiding the fact that they would be separated for much longer than either of them would like. Meredith thought that, given Derek's huge heart and need to give, he would be all over the idea of helping out those in a crisis area. But she realized with great weariness that she was wrong, in every way possible.

* * *

A/N: This was pretty short. After author's notes, it came to just over 1900 words. I really am very sorry for that, and for the fact that this was mostly just filling you in and didn't exactly advance the plot too very much. But I'm going to get to work on chapter three ASAP. Don't forget to let me know how you liked it!


	3. Not the Same as I Was

**Chapter 3: Not the Same as I Was**

A/N: So I might be really terrible about updating. I'm getting together more ideas, though, so it may come together a bit more quickly next time. The title for this chapter comes from the song "Set Down Your Glass" by Snow Patrol.

Additionally, if there's anything you would really, really like to see occur in this, toss the idea my way and we'll see what I can do, since, as I said, I'm mostly shooting from the hip with this.

* * *

Derek was quite nervous as he and James stood outside their home in Seattle, waiting to take Meredith to the airport. He fiddled the keychain, not having the courage to look up at the door where she would soon make her exit. Balancing a bottle opener on his index finger, crushing indifference weighed him down like a bag of bricks. It made him feel guilty, like more powerful emotions should be firing up inside him at any moment. But they did not. Instead, he just didn't know how to handle the situation the way he knew he should, and so nervousness was permitted to creep in.

James was sitting on the hood of the Range Rover, bundled up tight to keep out the already icy Seattle winds. Derek thought he should look more worried or scared to be leaving his mother, but if he was, he hid it well behind the facade of his Gameboy. He felt a dip in his gut as he thought of Meredith, the woman he had loved and lived with for so long. The woman whose husband only worried about how to best pretend he cared at least a little bit that he might never see her again; and whose son would rather play Winnie the Pooh than ask incessant questions about where Mommy was going and why he couldn't go too—like any other normal child.

Derek felt a pang of something like regret, and for a moment floundered at the thought of calling the whole thing off and going to Africa with her. He couldn't stand not being the good guy; he couldn't stand to hurt her so deliberately. Not that that was his primary intention, but he was certainly making a good job of it. But as she finally came out carrying a few loose items and locking the door behind her without a glance in his direction, Derek was able to remind himself that it was _she_ who told him that they should take a break. It had been _her_ idea to go to Sudan alone, and for he and James to travel together for a while. None of this had really been his idea, but somehow, it didn't feel that way to him just then.

"Are you ready?" Meredith asked as she descended the last step, stopping several yards away from him and peering in his direction with a somber expression on her face.

Both Shepherds met the small blonde's eyes, but no one spoke a word. They simply all took their places in the vehicle, and Derek wondered if they would ever do this again.

--

Addison stormed directly to Sam Bennett's office as soon as she stepped her first expensively-clad foot off the elevator. "I found _this_ in your mailbox, what is _this_ about?" She held up a postcard with a ferryboat on it, clutching a rubberband full of bills and periodicals in the other hand.

Sam wrinkled his brow and placed a hand over the speaker of his desk phone. "I don't know," he hissed, "I've not seen my mail yet because it's still in your hand."

Addison wasn't buying it though, so she shut the door behind her very calmly and took a seat across from him. She narrowed her eyes as he continued talking to whoever was on the other end of his phone call.

"…I know, Mr. Patterson." He glanced nervously at her in his peripheral vision, and then looked away quickly, pretending to scribble something on his calendar. "No, we don't offer that here. I can set you up with Pete Wilder, he's really—" Sam was now turned completely away from her in his chair, but Addison didn't budge. "We can do that, if you want to do that… Okay. Okay, Friday evening it is. Alright. Have a good day, Mr. Patterson."

"Out with it." Addison placed the postcard on his desk and purposefully slid it across the table before the handset was even back to its cradle.

"Look, Addison…" He was beating around the bush, of course.

"Who do we know," she pushed without showing the slightest interest in whatever he had to say, "who likes _ferryboats_, Sam? Is it… Is it Cooper? No… Could it be Naomi? No, that's not it…" She stood up, pacing and pretending to ponder. She couldn't remember being this angry with Sam before. "Who do we know who likes ferryboats, and has a four-year-old son named James? Who do we know like that, Sam? It's not Archer… It's not Nancy, or Mark… It's on the tip of my tongue, who am I thinking of?" She stopped and waited for him to read the card.

"Addison," he started slowly, getting out of his chair and sitting carefully on the edge of his desk. "He needed a place to stay. He called, and he asked. What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, tell him to get a hotel? Tell him to go somewhere else? Just a good ol' 'no' would've worked pretty well…"

"Does he know?"

"Know what?" She was playing innocent, and she knew that Sam could tell. But she wasn't ready to admit that any of _that_ was a big deal, or any of her ex's business.

Sam sighed and stood back up. "I guess not then. Okay. I won't bring it up if you don't want to talk about it."

"It's none of his business." She liked that about Sam; their ability to speak so cryptically yet still know exactly what was going on in the conversation. After everything, he had always remained a very good friend.

"You're right. It's not, is it?" He smiled.

"Stop that," she snapped, but she was quickly getting over her initial agitation. "No smiling. Not right now. When will he be here?"

His eyes quickly darted away from hers, and she placed her hands on her hips. This was serious. "_When_?"

"I thought you were over him a long time ago," he stated matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously in turn.

She opened her mouth to retort, but crossed her arms and snorted impatiently instead. "You're stalling, aren't you, Sam?"

"He'll be here tomorrow."

She had no words for that. "Okay. That wasn't so hard, huh?" She almost turned to leave when she remembered she still had his mail. "Here. I checked it for you when I got mine this morning."

"You're too kind, Addie!" he called after her as she walked out of his office, but she knew he was only trying to win back her favor.

--

"Where are we going again?" James asked from the backseat.

Derek glanced at the carbon copies of Meredith Grey-Shepherd's eyes in the rearview mirror. They were focused out the window, the boy's chin resting on his arm, elbow propped up on the door handle. He could hardly believe his only son was getting so big, when it seemed no more than a week ago he was still in diapers.

"Los Angeles. The City of Angels, bud."

"Oh yeah, and the ocean. To Mister Sam." He peered inquisitively between the seats and out the windshield, as if expecting L.A. to appear before them. "How much longer?"

"A long time, I'm afraid, Jamie."

"How far away is the Angels?"

"'_Are_ the angels,'" he corrected. "Well, we live in Seattle, in Washington. And Los Angeles is in California. Between California and Washington is Oregon. And California's pretty big. It's about a thousand miles."

"How much is _that_?"

Derek smiled at his son's innocence. He couldn't remember the last time a thousand had been an immeasurable number to him. "Hmm. How far is it to the ferryboats from home? Do you remember?"

"Ten miles?"

"Pretty close. So it's like going to the ferryboats one hundred times."

"That's a lot, isn't it?" He sounded weary, leaning back against his carseat with a heavy sigh.

"It's already been a while, though. We've been on the road so long it's like going to the ferryboats four times. That's why it's so dark. But we'll probably have to stop at a hotel soon." He glanced at the digital clock in the Range Rover's dash. They were just outside of the California state line.

He pulled off I-5 at the next well-lit exit. He wasn't about to allow his son to sleep in a dump, and would only stop for at least a three-star hotel. That part of his pre-McDreamy New York life had never quite left him—a deep distrust of cheap motels.

When they were settled into their room at the Holiday Inn, James content to jump on the rickety queen-size bed, Derek sat in the sofa by the window with a head-full of thoughts. His departure from Meredith had been uneventful and not as dramatic as it felt it should have been. They had both said "so this is it" and promised to write, acting strangely as though nothing was wrong. James had cried at last, and his mother had picked him up, running her fingers through his thick hair. But when they called her flight, she was just a bit too quick to relinquish him into Derek's arms.

He really had no excuse for coming to L.A. He had left those people behind him, at whatever the cost had been. It had been his goal to start over in Seattle with new friends and new family. He hated to use the word "trade-off" but that was really what had occurred. The more he thought of where he was heading, the more he had to stave off thoughts of _everything_ that was in L.A.: a life he had been happy with, at least for a time, friends… And her. She was there. That was what he didn't need to think about. But even as he reminded himself that they were divorced, and had been for ages, that he had no business with her, that he had a wife, had a son, that she had a daughter—he felt his fingers sliding into his pocket to produce his cellular. And before he knew it, he was typing in her name in his address book. He was pressing the "call" button—

"Hello?"

That was it; that was her voice. That was what he had not heard in years, what he had longed to hear for… well it couldn't have been that long could it? It had been less than a week since he and Meredith had opted for their separation...

"_Hello_?" she said again when he didn't answer. "I can hear you—"

"Addison," he finally breathed.

She paused, and his heart fluttered in time with James's hiccuping version of "Yellow Submarine."

"Who is this?" she said quietly.

Derek wasn't so fooled. His number hadn't changed since she had been in Seattle, and even if she didn't have it anymore, she should have known the area code at least.

"Um, Derek. Hi." _Oh_, he thought immediately afterward, _what a brilliant thing to say_.

"No kidding!" She sounded both nervous and happy, but he couldn't be sure. "I heard you were heading this way. You're staying with Sam, aren't you? How's, um, James, right?"

This wasn't her. No matter how much she might have changed in the last five years, this wasn't her. She would have never been this happy to hear from him, and she never did small talk.

"Yeah, James. He's great. He's four, and ... he really likes The Beatles." He glanced up at his son, still bouncing away to his own tune. "We should only be that way for a week or so. Meredith's doing Doctors Without Borders, so Jamie and I are traveling. How's everyone doing down there?"

"Oh, great. We're all great. You know L.A. Full of … greatness."

He grinned at her awkwardness. That was how he remembered her. "That's good to hear," was all he could come up with. He didn't know why he had called her. He didn't have anything to say, and he was sure she didn't want anything to do with him. Not after the last time they had spoken.

"Listen, Der, it was great to hear from you, but I'm kind of in the middle of, uh, something. A meeting. Yes. So why don't you call me when you're in town and we'll catch up one day?"

He smiled, sure she was lying, but not blaming her for it. "That would be great. Save my number. Later, Addie." The familiar name rolled off his tongue before his brain had a chance to think otherwise, but he seemed to care less than he thought he should.

"Jamie-boy, time for bed," he said, standing up and catching the child mid-hop.

"Awww, Daddy, _noo_. Can't we watch the TV or somethin'?"

"We've got a long day ahead of us," he countered as he turned off the overhead light.

"Not even for a minute?"

"We've got weeks to watch TV and jump on beds, James. Right now, though, we gotta go to sleep. You want to see the ocean don't you?"

Jamie grinned and dove under the covers with a giggle. "Yes! Ocean tuh-morrow!"

"We'll see." Derek clicked off the bedside lamp and set the alarm before climbing into bed next to James, who immediately snuggled closer to his father. He lay there for the longest time, but for the first time in a while, his thoughts weren't on Meredith or Sudan or the hospital or gas prices or the number of other things that kept him awake. No, something inside of him felt alive—truly _alive_ like he hadn't been in so long. Something he couldn't quite place his finger on (or perhaps refused to place his finger on) really made this trip seem like the best idea he had ever had.

A/N: I should clarify that Sam and Addison are not together in this story.


	4. Stay and Face the Music

**Chapter 4: Stay and Face the Music**

A/N: So I changed the category to Grey's/PP crossover. Just so we all know now, ha. Also, random: anyone from New Zealand here? It would be cool if you are and could message me. :-)

Chapter title comes from the song _Cartwheels_.

* * *

Addison was at Sam's at nine p.m. the night of the ferryboat postcard—as was everyone else; Addison had declared a state of emergency. Given that it was Friday, Carson was permitted to stay up later than normal with Lucas Wilder and Devon Freedman. The three children were playing Uno while their parents and "aunties and uncles" discussed the best way to handle the situation at hand.

"I can't believe you didn't _tell her _that he was going to be here," Naomi was saying with a smile of disbelief on her face.

"Yeah, or that he's staying at your place. Seriously, Sam?" Cooper earned a lift of the eyebrows from his wife. "What? Oh come on, I'd be pissed. _Are_ you pissed?" He tossed back a drink of his beer while Addison contemplated her answer.

"I don't know, should I be? Should I be pissed at you, Sam?"

"What was I supposed to say to you? That's not exactly something that comes up in conversation. I was distracted that morning, I had almost forgotten about it."

"I don't see what the big stinkin' deal is. You were married to this guy when? Eight years ago? Come on, Montgomery… You're pushing forty-five. This isn't the kind of crap we freak out about anymore, is it?"

"Charlotte, this is clearly more than meets the eye. What's Derek Shepherd got on you?"

"Nothing, Vi, he doesn't have anything except eleven of the best years of my life, plus the years we dated in medical school and there's—" Her cheeks filled with blood as she bit back what she almost let slip. "_Sam_ of all people should know that it's kind-of a big deal when you invite someone's ex to stay with you—when that someone lives next door!"

"I didn't invite—" Sam started, but he was clearly losing the battle.

"The point is that Addison isn't comfortable with him being here, right? So what's the plan from there?" Pete interjected.

Addison offered him a look of thanks for getting the conversation back on track. "Can't he stay somewhere else, Sam?" she complained for the hundredth time that day.

"Addison, please. He asked me for a favor, and I told him it was okay. He's going to be here tomorrow, with his little boy, I can't tell him no now…"

"He has a son?" Naomi and Violet asked in unison. It was Naomi who continued though, "I had no idea. What's he been doing the last… how long has it been now—five, six years?"

Addison shrugged and played with the straw in her daiquiri. "How should I know? He and the intern got married—oh, well, she's not an intern _now_—and they had a baby, named him after his dad. Now she's getting a name for herself _already_ in neuro—_go figure_. But I have no idea what he's doing. Oh, wait, yes I do. He's _chief of surgery_ at Seattle Grace, whose surgical program is now ranked _number one_ _in the nation_."

"Impressive," said Cooper, his brow rising toward his hairline.

"Wrong answer," murmured Charlotte, elbowing him under the arm. "Don't you ever learn anything?"

"Yeah, thanks Coop."

"Well it's not like you've been sitting around doing nothing," Dell pointed out.

"I'm not chief of surgery though! I'm chief of… single motherhood!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"You make it sound like a bad thing. While he's had someone to rely on consistently, a live-in person to share responsibility with, you've been holding your own almost completely alone. I would say that's pretty impressive," noted Violet.

"Yeah," agreed Pete with a slight chuckle, "single parenthood isn't exactly the easiest thing. Especially for you, I would imagine, as a surgeon. Good thing you've got Sam to help out, though."

Addison shrugged. "You _all_ help. I wouldn't have made it through without you guys." This earned several modest "well, not really"s from her companions, which made for the perfect opportunity to change the subject. "So, what am I going to do?"

"What do you _want_ to do?" Naomi asked level-headedly. "How do you feel about him now?"

Addison opened her mouth to answer (though the answer she did not know) when Carson came over carrying her cell phone. "I was showing Lucas and Devon the kitty game, and it started ringing," she explained, handing the device over.

Addison glanced at the number on the screen, which was attached to a name. "Oh my God," she blurted. "It's him. It's Derek. What do I do?"

"Answer," Charlotte and Violet said automatically.

"Hello?" she stated, pulling herself together. She was Addison Forbes Montgomery, not just some dumb broad who let Derek Shepherd walk all over her. She waited on his response for what seemed hours, but in reality was only a few seconds. "_Hello_? I can hear you—"

But a familiar voice cut into her words, breathing her name, "Addison." It wasn't a question or a statement. It was just perfect. It was exactly how she remembered it, and that sent chills down her back.

She squeezed her eyes shut to rid such thoughts from her head. "Who is this?"

Sam snorted next to her, and everyone else grinned; she was playing demure and everyone knew it but him.

"Um, Derek. Hi." She almost laughed at the unnatural quality in his voice. Of course he was Derek.

But she was on a roll. "No kidding! I heard you were heading this way. You're staying with Sam, aren't you? How's, um, James, right?" Asking questions to which she already knew the answers seemed like the safest route.

"Yeah, James. He's great." She could hear a boy with Derek's diction singing in the background. "He's four, and … he really likes The Beatles." There was a small pause, and Addison imagined a nauseatingly adorable toddler, a perfect combination of his parents' perfect genes. "We should only be that way for about a week or so. Meredith's doing Doctors Without Borders, so Jamie and I are traveling. How's everyone doing down there?"

Addison was thrown off guard: _Doctors Without Borders? Really?_ "Oh, great," she said without putting much thought into her words, "We're all great. You know L.A. Full of … greatness." She was hardly aware of how very stupid she sounded; though Dell, Sam, and Pete had all laughed without reserve at her depiction of her friends' well-being.

He was quiet again for a moment, and Addison caught snatches of "Yellow Submarine" and squeaking bed springs. "That's good to hear," he said at last, but his words sounded stressed.

She didn't know what he wanted, or what to say to him. Especially not with everyone's attention focused on her, including the three children. "Listen, Der—" the old pet name slipped right off her tongue before she could help herself, "—it was great to hear from you, but I'm kind of in the middle of, uh, something." _What a stupid thing to say_. "A meeting," she corrected herself hurriedly. "Yes. So, why don't you call me when you're in town and we'll catch up one day?" _There, that wasn't so hard._

"That would be great. Save my number. Later, Addie." The last word caused her heart to skip a beat, and she hated herself for it. Why was this so awkward? Perhaps time and changes had strained their abilities to be cordial and normal.

Addison didn't respond as she hung up. But as soon as she did, she was met with a bombardment of questions.

"So, what did he want?"

"Why is he calling so late?"

"Why is he calling you _at all_?"

"Where's the bimbo?"

"'_Full of greatness_?'"

She ignored them, feeling a bit stunned. "I have _no_ idea what that was about."

--

The buzzing in Derek's head had returned by the time he entered the Santa Monica city limits. But this time it was not buzzing with problems or any form of anxiety. This time, it was buzzing with anticipation. He hadn't been to California in quite a long time, before James was born. But that hadn't been a happy visit, and certainly not the one he wanted to remember as he began his current trip.

James was sleeping in his carseat when they pulled up to Sam's driveway at just after six p.m. Derek wondered how he should wake him, knowing how excited he had been the past several days to finally see the ocean. He glanced next door as he took the keys out of the ignition. Addison's house, knowing she may be just inside, made him somewhat nervous.

"Are we _finally _here?" came his son's tiny, only half-awake voice.

Derek turned in his seat and grinned. "We are. The ocean is probably pretty chilly this time of year, though, champ. Better wait til tomorrow, when the sun is up, to do much swimming. And we may want to get you a wet suit." Perhaps he was being a mother hen, but he would hate to have to tell Meredith he had gotten their son ill in the first two days of separation.

"But today _is_ tomorrow…" he whispered as Derek got out of the vehicle and began detaching the fastenings of the carseat.

He sighed at the sadness in his son's voice. He hated saying no; hated being the bad guy because Meredith was seemingly too afraid to turn down anything the boy asked. "Well, maybe we can at least hit the beach. But I really think it's too cold for swimming right now, okay? The sun is going down and it's November. So, it's tomorrow or nothing, buddy."

James groaned as Derek lifted him from the car and set him upright on the pavement. "Awwwoohhh. Okay, Daddy…"

"If it isn't Derek Shepherd!" came a familiar, though slightly older, voice from ahead.

"Sam Bennett!" Derek turned and grinned as his old friend. He looked the same as always, though crow's feet tugged at the corners of his eyes likes parasites to his smile, and gray was beginning to mingle in with his bituminous goatee. It made Derek wonder how much he, himself, had changed—how much the others had changed. "This is Jamie, my son." He stepped back and placed a hand on the four-year-old's shoulder.

James smiled and stuck out a small hand. "Mister Sam?"

Sam smiled up at Derek as he gingerly shook the boy's hand. "Yeah, but I think just 'Sam' will work similarly well."

"Okay, Just-Sam." James smiled broadly. "Do you own the ocean?" He poked his head around the side of the house to stare at the waves breaking against the shore before looking earnestly up at the man before him.

"Ah, no. But that would be nice. I own this stretch of beach, though…" He nodded towards the strip of sand before his deck.

"Really? You own _the beach_? Cool! Daddy, can Just-Sam show me his beach? _Please_?"

Derek sighed, but was unable to deny the fervor in his son's face. "I suppose it would be okay, as long as it's alright with Sam and you don't go into the ocean." While James jumped up and down on the spot clapping his hands, Derek met Sam's eyes. "Okay if I grab a beer? It's been a long drive…"

"Sure, help yourself. Come join us when you're done, if you'd like."

Derek smiled in response and walked toward the front door.

--

Addison had been sitting in her kitchen, trying to convince herself for good reason. It was a nice kitchen, and really she didn't spend enough time in it. She should really use the kitchen more. Yes, that was it; she was being more diverse in her after-work-cocktail time. But of course that was just what she told herself. What she was _really_ doing was pretending to be interested in a game of Sudoku and glancing nervously out the window with the view of Sam's driveway for the past hour-and-a-half. But even when they pulled up and Addison watched her ex-husband pull a toddler from the backseat—a predictably gorgeous toddler—she managed to stay in her seat like it was none of her concern. But when Sam and the boy ran off toward the beach and Derek went inside, she thought it might be safe to edge toward the patio.

Once outside, she slunk down into the chair furthest from the pair checking out a tide pool. But they had their backs to her and didn't seem to be paying much attention, so she stepped forward and crossed her arms, watching as the little boy—Derek's carbon copy almost to a T—held up a seashell for Sam to examine.

She almost didn't notice when Derek came out of the back side of Sam's house, holding a longneck in one hand and a smile across his lips. She didn't realize she was staring but had time to notice that his hair was shorter, the way it had been in New York, and was beginning to lighten; there were heavy circles under his eyes that she could see even from a distance; lines were forming around his dimples; and there was a wedding band on his finger again—though not the same one she remembered.

She didn't realize how long she had stood there and taken in the differences in his appearance until he glanced sideways at her. She detected a grin on his face, which made her unable to resist smiling back. Then he turned fully to her and raised his beer before taking a drink, his eyes never leaving hers. Without a second's hesitation she lifted her Long Island iced tea.

Derek went back inside, shutting the door behind him, the moment gone as soon as it had come. But Addison thought with a flush of percipience that that had been way too simple. Dealing with his presence was supposed to be difficult, like a challenge to overcome in an obstacle course. Seeing him for the first time in six years was not supposed to be so easy. Nothing about them had ever been easy.

On that note, Addison turned to go back to her Sudoku, but just as she did, she caught Sam's eye. He glanced to his now-closed patio door then raked his eyes toward Addison, and the frown etched into his face had never hurt her more.

* * *

A/N: What do you think? I'm getting more ideas for this as I go along so hopefully it will gradually become better/easier to read. Your input is deeply welcome!


	5. It's Easier to Lie

**Chapter 5: It's Easier to Lie**

A/N: Chapter title comes from the song "Grazed Knees" from our patron band's third album, _Final Straw_. This song is perfectly Addek, I think. You should look it up if you're not familiar. Oh, and if there are two breaks between paragraphs that indicates a shift in scene or similar. If there are two dashes between paragraphs, that indicates a shift in the point of view. A long horizontal line separates notes and stuff from the body of the story. Just so there's no confusion. :-)

**Important:** I upped the rating of this to _M_ for future chapters. So if that's a problem for you, please stop reading now. Thanks.

* * *

Addison could never figure out why dressing her daughter was such a difficult task. She was so determined to have her way. And not just in clothes and morning routines—but usually in _all_ things. She was a good child; she rarely got herself into too much trouble at school, behaved well when playing with her coworkers' children, minded her manners, and had not yet done serious and irrevocable damage to Addison's psyche … but she was undeniably bossy.

"Why can't I wear my new dress?" the feisty little brunette was saying, pointing toward a dress still under its plastic hanging on her closet door.

"Because it's Saturday and you're only going to Devon's house. I'd rather you didn't ruin it doing whatever it is the two of you do."

"We play cops and robbers," she informed her mother matter-of-factly. Then she sighed and screwed her face up into a pout. "How long am I gonna be there?"

"Only a few days, sweetie. You're good friends with Dev, aren't you sweetie? He's in your class, right?" Of course Addison knew this, since she and the Freedmans had specifically arranged for their children to spend at least their first year of school together.

"He's okay, I guess." Addison was sure her daughter was thinking instead about Lucas Wilder. "Where are you going?"

"Well," she said hesitantly, absently rifling through Carson's drawers, "I'm not really going anywhere. I'm just going to be very, very busy for a little while, sweetheart, and I'm not sure I'll be able to drive you to school in the mornings until, you know, things settle down at work."

Her daughter seemed to accept this, however reluctantly. Addison hated lying to her—though she really had never had to before now. "Then why can't I stay with Daddy?"

She bit her lip, deciding on a plain blue T-shirt, matching those oceanic eyes Carson possessed. "Because he's busy too, baby." She paused while Carson wrinkled her brow in thought. "Now, put this on, and let's go."

Addison and Carson arrived at Charlotte and Cooper's front door at eight o'clock that morning. It was early, but Addison was not taking any chances with her daughter. She needed to buy them both time.

When Carson rang the doorbell only seventeen times, Devon was the one to answer. He was already dressed up as a cowboy: a straw sheriff's hat sat atop his chestnut-colored hair and a plastic badge was attached to the flannel shirt he was wearing. He also appeared to have stolen a pair of his mother's probably very pricey boots to complete his outfit.

"Howdy y'all!" he said in a thick, fake accent. "I been e'spectin' you."

"_Ex_pecting," Carson corrected him with a tilt of her nose. Addison was sure she had not raised her to behave this way.

"Are your parents home, Dev?" she asked before the two could begin bickering over the way the boy pronounced things.

"Yep, they sure are ma'am. Lemme get 'em." He turned his back and cupped his hands over his mouth. "MOOOOOOM! DAAAAAAAD! AUNT ADDDIIIIEEE IS HEERRRE!"

Charlotte appeared first from the stairs. "Devon, get those boots off your feet and put them right back where you found them." She smiled up at her guests once her son had begun trudging upstairs, and motioned them to follow her inside.

"Cooper's still in bed, of course. You wanna go play with Devon, Car?" She smiled warmly at the little girl. "If he knows what's best for him, he should be up in his room. He's been waiting on you guys since about six this morning."

Carson took off up the stairs after her friend, her Hello Kitty backpack bouncing with each step. The two women waited until they heard both children's footsteps overhead in Devon's room before turning to one another.

"Coffee, Monty?" She turned in the direction of the kitchen, and Addison followed.

"Sure, I'd love some."

As she took out the mugs, Addison sat down at the bar dividing the kitchen from the dining area. "So, have you seen him yet?"

Addison groaned. "Ugh, yes. I saw him last night when they arrived. Purely accidental, of course. I was outside when he came out to Sam's balcony. He did this weird toasting thing, and went back inside. I don't know what to make of him."

"You never did, did you?" She smiled knowingly as she poured their drinks. Addison thought she must be relating her relationship with Cooper to Addison's former relationship with Derek.

"I guess not," she confessed. She did not even know what to say about him.

"Look, I ain't never been one to beat around the bush, and you know that. _Does he know_?" She had her back to Addison, adding cream and sugar to her own drink, but remembering that Addison took hers black, as any self-respecting surgeon does.

"Of course not. And neither does she. In fact, the only people who _do_ know are you and Coop, Sam and Naomi, and Mark Sloan."

"So her daddy knows, but she doesn't? And Derek doesn't? That's a little awkward, isn't it?" She paused contemplatively. "So what are you gonna do?" She came to sit down next to her, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Honestly, Charlotte, I have no idea. He's only going to be here for a week. It can't be too hard, can it?"

Charlotte just smiled.

Addison arrived back home at nine a.m. and by that time she really just wanted to finish her Sudoku puzzle and try not to think about all the potentially terrible things that might occur soon. She changed back into her pajamas and draped a robe around herself before heading back downstairs. She was sitting contentedly on her couch with her puzzle when, annoyingly enough, there was a knock on her door.

--

Sam smiled faintly when Addison opened her door. She was smiling back at him, appearing to be happy to see him.

"Hey, stranger. It's been a while since I've seen your face around these parts." She walked off towards her living room, and Sam let himself in as he always did.

"We need to talk," he said seriously when she sat down on the couch. He took a seat next to her and watched her face fall quite visibly. "What are your plans, Addie? I mean, surely you knew this day would come."

"Sam, you know I never expected to see him again. The way things went his last time here, the things he said… I believed him. I believed that I would never see him again."

Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and couldn't stop the accompanying laugh from escaping, either. "Are you serious right now, Addison? Did you _ever_ think that he would permanently be gone from your life? That this little issue would never rear its ugly head? You're smarter than that…"

He could tell those words upset her, just by the flash of light in her eyes and the way her back stiffened. "Maybe it wouldn't have ever done whatever you just said it did with its head, _Sam_, if you hadn't invited him to stay next door! Maybe everything would have worked out. Besides, he's with Meredith. This isn't going to change anything."

Sam managed to stay calm, simply shaking his head. "I need to know what you're going to do," he reasserted. "I need to know what _I_ need to do. _What do you want me to do_? Because I am only here to do what is in the best interest of your daughter—"

"She is _your daughter too_." Addison's words were little more than a low hiss.

Sam stood up, feeling he had already overstayed his welcome. "No, Addison, she's not. You've always made that _abundantly _clear."

--

Derek was lying on his makeshift cot in Sam's granddaughter's room when he woke up at nine o'clock. It had been quite some time since he had been permitted to sleep so long. Presently, he was reflecting on his conversation with his old friend the previous evening. They had caught up and exchanged pleasantries. Derek learned that things had been going really well at Oceanside; that Maya was married and living in San Diego, and that she was going to school at UCSD; that he and Naomi were completely cordial now and had been for several years. But he had purposefully avoided the subject of one person in particular.

It had been a long time since he had last seen his ex-wife, and so much had happened then. He had said and done so many things that he regretted. Things he couldn't take back. He had been terrible to her, and then had left so abruptly, never to speak to her again. Just thinking about it made his insides squirm. He fiddled with the ring on his third fourth left finger which now seemed to burn into his skin. Hoping to shake the thoughts from his mind, he rolled off the cot and went to find his son, who should have been asleep on the girl's bed next to him.

"James?" he said when he found him at the dinner table playing his Gameboy. "How long have you been up, buddy?"

"Since before the sun," he said without taking his eyes off the game. "When Just Sam left."

"He's not here?" he asked as he shuffled hopefully to the coffee maker, and smiled when he saw half of a pot left.

"No," his son replied simply, swinging his dangling feet under the too-big chair.

Derek switched the machine back on to warm the drink back up. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Nope. He just said 'good morning, James,' and I said 'hi, Just Sam,' and he said to tell you he'll be back real soon. And he said not to go outside until you get up." Only then did the boy glance up from the game. "You said we'd go to the ocean today, Daddy."

Derek leaned against the counter. "I suppose so." He smiled.

"Can we go right now, please?"

"It's cold, Jamie. Wait until the sun has been up for a while. And we have something to take care of first."

"Like what?" He switched off the Gameboy and came to stand next to his father, mocking his position against the counter.

Derek searched for a mug while he contemplated exactly how to word his answer. "We're going to see your Aunt Addison." _Yes_, _"Aunt Addison" sounds okay_.

James's face twisted with confusion and thought. "Who's that?"

He found a mug and poured his coffee into it before responding thoughtfully, "A very old friend of your dad's."

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry if you're confused. But I promise that if you keep reading, things will make more sense soon. I also apologize that this is so short. But I think a lot of info was given (sort of, maybe more like "a lot of new questions"), so hopefully that makes up for it.


	6. Ask Me How I Am

**Chapter Six: Ask Me How I Am**

A/N: Title comes from the song of the same name. Sorry for the ridiculously long wait. My Microsoft Word malfunctioned literally right as I was going to post the finished product (not this, this is a re-write) a couple of weeks ago. It took a lot of effort to find the will to re-write a chapter that I really was pleased with already. :-/ At any rate, here you go!

* * *

Derek was working up the nerve to knock on Addison's door when the door swung open in his face. He and James, whose hand he was holding, both moved back a step in surprise.

"Just Sam?" said the little boy, but Sam didn't seem to notice as his eyes connected with Derek's. There was something intense in his gaze, making Derek's brow shoot up in surprise.

"I was just leaving," he murmured. Derek wondered what such a negative tone in Sam's voice could mean, but didn't press it.

"Sure, see you later, Sam." He glanced after his friend's retreating back.

Sam did not answer, and Derek turned back to the doorway, where he saw—in its full form for the first time in over five years—the tall, redheaded figure to which he had once been so accustomed. She had her back to him, thoughtlessly straightening the bookshelf across from the entrance way. He watched her for a moment, marveling at how she still looked exactly the same—at least from this angle. Then she sighed visibly, slumping her shoulders and running a hand through her loose hair. She didn't seem to notice he was even there.

"Addison," he said in his most confident tone, plastering a smile to his stubbled face. He wasn't sure how this would go over.

But when she turned around, he saw her lips curve upward in an instant, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling at their corners. He was nearly taken aback at how happy she looked to see him. And she was over to him in an instant, her arms around his neck. He was even more surprised to find that the situation wasn't awkward. It felt, to him, like the reuniting of old friends. Perhaps that was what they were now, in spite of everything.

"What's Sam's problem?" he said, possibly quite stupidly, when she released him and ushered them inside.

He watched something flicker in her eye when she promised quite airily that he was just in an irritable mood; something he found suspicious but elected not to comment upon for affability's sake.

"Now," she said, crossing into the kitchen and leaning on the counter with her elbows, "who is this handsome young man?"

Derek placed a fatherly hand on his son's shoulder and beamed down at him. "This is James. James, this is Addison—uh, Aunt Addison." He glanced up cautiously at the lady across the countertop, but she was only smiling. "He's kinda shy."

"I'm not," the boy protested immediately, but diverted his eyes from Addison's rather sheepishly.

"Well either way, it's good to meet you, James." She moved toward the refrigerator and prompted the two drinks, which both males declined, before leaving the kitchen. "I hope you have time to sit for a moment?"

"Of course," responded Derek as they followed her to the living room, taking seats on the couch opposite Addison.

"Wow," he said in earnest, taking a look around. The house was much the same as he remembered it; a familiar painting hung on the wall behind Addison—one which they had had in their Brownstone. He _hated_ that painting, but seeing it again only elicited a small smile. "How long has it been now?"

"Six years. Nearly," she replied, not quite meeting his eye. Derek didn't mind that, but was a bit apprehensive of how quickly she changed the subject to neutral territory. "So, what are your plans while you're here?"

He stood, unable to keep himself still. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and glanced out of her window. "James wants to see the ocean…" he said quietly. He turned to face her full-on. "Hey, I have an idea." He grinned. "You have a daughter, right?"

--

Addison tried very hard to keep her composure when Derek dropped that bombshell. She readjusted her legs, turned her head, and smiled with a nod, trying to ignore the characteristic sparkle in his eyes. "I do." _Chuckle_. "I didn't think you even knew she existed." _Smile_. _Good job_.

Derek's son, who looked much like his mother now that she had a good look at him, leapt off the couch and came to stand by his father, tugging the man's hand out of his pocket. She smiled when Derek glanced down at the boy with a reassuring curve of the lips and took the smaller hand in his own. The boy really was very shy.

"Sam was in Seattle a couple of years ago. You remember? He told me about her. Said she looked just like you." He tilted his head curiously to one side, his features soft. "I couldn't have done it," he admitted, squeezing James's hand.

"Done what?"

"What you did. In-vitro, not knowing the father, just … doing all of this on your own—well, mostly. There was always Sam, right?" He sat down beside her, and Addison had to drop her gaze once again.

"Yeah. I guess there has always been Sam." Maybe she truly had taken him for granted. Maybe he was right in what he said before leaving her house earlier.

"Anyway," said Derek as he pulled his son onto his lap, "I thought it would be cool if the four of us could hit the beach later." He smiled in a friendly manner, but Addison was frozen. She hadn't expected this to come up so soon. Or perhaps she had simply ignored the possibility.

"Oh." She waved a hand in the air. "She's staying with a little friend from school this weekend."

Derek narrowed his eyes slightly at her words, making Addison's insides squirm. Why did she get the feeling that he didn't believe her? "Addison. It's only for an afternoon. I'm sure this 'friend' is always around, but how often is, er, Uncle Derek in town?"

Addison sighed. She didn't know what else to say besides "yes." He had always been her greatest weakness—for better or for worse. But her train of thought was interrupted by a small voice.

"What's her name?" The boy had a curious, undeniably intelligent look on his face.

Addison paused, then stated as normally as she could muster: "Carson. Her name's Carson." She had to look away from the man two cushions down, whose head was tilting in the peculiar way again, and a smirk was forming across his face.

"Hey!" said James suddenly, grinning from ear to ear with clear enthusiasm. "That's _my_ name. _James Carson Shepherd_. Innit, Daddy?"

Addison watched smugly as Derek's face fell and he corrected his posture. "Yeah, buddy, that's right." However, she couldn't help the confusion from taking hold of her mind at this bit of information.

Derek stood up on this note, moving towards the entrance again. "So, I'll see you later? For the beach?"

"I'll be here…" And while one part of her very much wanted to see her ex—her old friend; the other half was screaming that this was a terrible idea.

--

"Where're we going, Daddy?" said James from the passenger seat of the Range Rover. Derek had let him ride in the front seat, though he normally did not; this was a man thing—and _men_ didn't ride in the back of another man's vehicle.

He smiled briefly at his son as he slowed for a red light. "To get you a wet suit, remember?" Of course, Meredith would have his head on a platter if their son so much as got the sniffles. He knew she didn't find him capable of focusing on the boy long enough to keep him healthy. He would show her otherwise.

"Ohh yeah." James dropped his dark head and fidgeted his fingers silently for a moment before lifting his eyes to his father and knitting his brow. "How do you know… um… I forgot her name—?"

Derek pondered briefly before supplementing: "Aunt Addison?" He sighed, unsure of how best to proceed with the situation. "Well, Jamie. A very long time ago, before I knew your mom, she was my wife."

James threw up his hands and placed them on both sides of his head, his mouth open. Then he reached far forward and pushed the _off_ button on the car radio. "Wait, Dad. Wait. When you're a wife, you have to have babies." Derek could see the gears turning in his son's mind. "I'm your only baby, right, Dad?"

The genuine concern in the boy's voice; the urgency in his words made Derek have to laugh. "Yeah, buddy. Sometimes, things just don't work out, and people don't have babies, even when they're married, or even if they really want one. And sometimes, when you don't think you want a baby just yet, you have one anyway. It's a crazy world."

James's silence worried Derek. He was afraid he had relayed too much information; given a bit too much insight into the adult world for the innocent child's mind. But he refused to raise his son to believe in fairy tales and miracles, when the world was a much harsher place.

So he was surprised when his next impish and sly words were "Did you kiss her?"

But reality and truth aside, he didn't want to confuse or scar the boy. "What, and get cooties?" He smiled good-naturedly.

"Well, how come you never kiss Mom anymore? Has she got cooties? 'Cause if she's got cooties—she _kissed_ _me_, Daddy, what should I do?" His face was very serious, as if the subject was a matter of life or death.

Derek took careful note of the fact that that was the first time his son had mentioned his mother since departing from her. He was not sure what to do about it, or if maybe it was normal. He really hoped that his parents' problems—both individually and together—were not causing James potential lifelong issues. He and Meredith had agreed not to let their son turn into themselves: trainwrecks of people who could have been normal, if not for those around them. He would be strong—that's what they had always said.

But he sighed heavily before carefully saying, "Sometimes grown-ups need to really think about it before they kiss. It can be … kind of a big deal."

James shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

Derek half-smiled as they pulled into the parking lot. "I agree, buddy. But like I said—the world is a crazy place."

He got out of the Range Rover and went around to the passenger's side, lifting the four-year-old out of his child safety seat and planting him onto the pavement outside of the surf shop Derek had found on Google. He was just taking his hand and locking the doors when his cell phone rang out from his pocket.

--

Addison wanted to opt for the wine as soon as Derek and James left. Well before noon, she wanted to just drink herself into oblivion and pretend that when she came to again, everything would be back to normal. There would be no Shepherds in California.

But she couldn't, if only because one of these Shepherds had charmed and smiled her into joining him in the sand. And what was more, she had been foolish enough to agree to bring her daughter into the mess; her innocent little girl whose entire world could be turned upside-down in the course of an hour in the company of Derek and James Shepherd… And for that particular situation, she had to have her wits about her.

So without alcohol to satiate her now-pounding head, she picked up her phone and did the next best thing at a time like this one.

"Naomi," she breathed, quickly finding comfort in the woman's typical greeting on the other end of the phone.

"Addie? What's wrong?" Addison appreciated her friend's way of always being able to read her every word, to know what was going on before she said anything.

"It's him. Derek. He just left. And oh, Nai, his son is so _cute_."

"And that's a problem somehow?"

"No—of course not. He wants to have a picnic or something. The _four_ of us. _Today_."

"But not with Sam?" Addison knew what was coming next. "Did you tell him, then?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Well, no, not exactly. Yet."

"'Not exactly?' Oh, Addison… You can't keep this up. The sooner you're truthful, the easier it will be for everyone. You _do_ still intend to tell the truth, don't you?" Naomi added into the last sentence a noticeable sense of urgency and alarm.

"Yes… At some point. I'm just not ready yet. I need time to think. I need… I need Sam's help, but he's angry with me."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing! It was just a silly argument. He said… she's not his daughter." The words hurt still, just to repeat them.

The silence from the other end of the line was deafening. Finally Naomi just more than whispered, "Well, Addie… she's not."

"I know that, Nai. Obviously, I know that. But it's not about him, is it? It's about Carson. _She_ calls him Daddy."

"And she deserves the truth, because one day, she's going to figure it out for herself. And she'll hate you for not telling her yourself."

"I know, I know. It doesn't make it any easier, though." She paused. "So what am I going to do?"

Naomi sighed. "Call Derek, and tell him you'd love to have a picnic with him. Ask him what kind of soda he prefers or something."

"He doesn't drink soda."

"Ad, you know what I mean. Just be positive, okay?"

"Okay. _Positive._ Thanks, Nai."

"That's what I'm here for. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Of course."

When Addison hung up the phone, she simply sat there on her couch, trying to formulate _exactly_ what she was going to say. She couldn't believe she was still doing things like this, if she was being honest with herself. This was something teenagers worried about, not world-class surgeons in their forties. So on that note, she resolutely picked her phone back up and found Derek's name in her address book.

* * *

A/N: So still no definitive answers—and the whole story of what's going on and has gone on will take most of the story to completely flesh out. But next chapter should get you some more info, so stick with it. And review, please! It totally makes my day. :-)


	7. Shut Your Eyes

**Shut Your Eyes**

A/N: From the song of the same name. Also, a ginormous thanks to **Kedda** for helping me piece together where I want to take this.

* * *

"…and then I'm gonna build a sand castle, then I'll hubserve some crabs—"

"_Ob_serve," Derek corrected as he placed his chattering son on the pavement of Sam's driveway.

"Yeah, that's what I said. Oh—and then, next, I'll see how long I can hold my breaf under the water; and then _you_ can see how long you can hold your breaf… and… _Dad_, there's so much to do! Hurry up, let's _go_!" He was bouncing on the balls of his feet now, yanking on Derek's pants leg.

"Relax, Jamie. It's only noon. We've got all day, I promise. You'll have enough time to do all the things you want to do." He was leading the way to the front door now, carrying a paper bag with a wetsuit, snorkeling set, and other assorted beach gear inside.

When they walked in, Derek immediately noticed that Sam was sitting on his couch, just staring out a window. There was no sound inside the house, which gave the place a peculiar feeling. Derek's intuition told him something was amiss with the situation. As he set down the bag on the floor, he noticed that he still had his coat on from the last time Derek had seen him leaving Addison's house.

"Jamie, why don't you go to the bedroom and play your Gameboy for a few minutes while Dad fixes lunch, okay?" His eyes, though, were on Sam.

"But, I wanna go to the beach _now_—"

"After lunch James, now _go_." He looked down purposefully at the dark-haired boy.

James sighed and dropped his shoulders. He picked up the bag, which weighed too much for him, and half-dragged, half-carried it up the stairs.

Derek laid down his keys and was careful to keep an eye on Sam, who was unmoving, as he made his way to the refrigerator and began taking out preparations for sandwiches. "Okay if I use this tuna, Sam?" He knew his friend wouldn't mind; he just wanted to test his response.

He heard the squeaking of movement against the leather couch, and glanced over his shoulder to see Sam moving towards the stairs. "No," he said, "I don't care." His tone was low and apathetic as he disappeared from Derek's view.

Derek wasn't positive that he knew what was going on, but clearly Sam and Addison had had words, and he imagined that his name had probably come up. In the back of his mind, he was sure that he knew why Addison had been perceptibly uncomfortable during his visit; why Sam seemed so standoffish today. But he didn't like to think about that.

"Why can't we just go swim in the backyard? Why do we have to go somewhere else?" Carson was marching around Addison's kitchen in her swimsuit, her brow creased with determination. She always believed she was right, no matter the situation.

"Because baby, uhh—Mister Derek is a guest and he would like to go to the park down the road. He's got a little boy too, and he doesn't get to go to the beach as much as you do." Addison had a cooler setting atop her counter, currently making turkey sandwiches to go inside.

"How come?" Carson opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of apple juice, turning it over in her small hands thoughtfully. "I don't like apple juice, Mom."

"What? Yes you do. You've been drinking it exclusively for a month." She turned to look at her daughter, who firmly placed the bottle back in the refrigerator.

"Yeah, but I don't like it anymore." Addison was sure she picked up a hint of mischief in Carson's smile.

She turned completely around and placed a hand on her hip. "Then what _do_ you like now?"

"Hmmm." She tilted her head to the side, mimicking her mother's stance. "Slurpees."

"I've never bought you a Slurpee."

"Devon's daddy got us some!"

"Did he now?" Addison turned back to the cucumber she was slicing, making a mental note to have a word with Cooper Freedman the next time she saw him. "Do you want to come help?" She smiled warmly over her shoulder.

"Uh-huh."

"Good. You get the drinks."

The two worked while Carson chattered for the next half hour before the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Carson said as she threw open the door to reveal Derek, wearing sunglasses and a Yankees cap; and James in a wetsuit and a yellow snorkeling mask.

Addison came to stand behind her daughter, protectively running a hand through the girl's hair as Derek removed his glasses. He bent down to meet Carson's eyes and smiled softly.

"Hi there. I'm Derek—your Mom's old friend—"

"Her last husband," Carson corrected knowingly.

Derek raised his eyebrows at Addison, but his smile widened as he turned his attention quickly back to the girl. "Yeah. That's right. And _this_—" he gestured for the boy standing shyly behind him to come closer, "—is my son, James. Say hello, James."

"Hi." He half-smiled, a little timidly, and pushed his goggles up into his thick, dark hair. "Are you Carson?"

"Yes. How come you know my name?" Addison bit her lip; her daughter was a very strong-willed little girl, and didn't mind to show it. Sometimes her blunt nature could be embarrassing.

"Be polite, Car," she reminded, wrapping one of the girl's loose curls around her finger.

"'Cause my name's Carson, too. _James Carson Shepherd_." He grinned at this, his chest swelling with pride and green eyes beaming.

Carson knitted her brow and turned to face Addison. "Mommy, does that mean we're related? 'Cause you have to have the same name when you're related."

Addison smiled, immediately feeling discomfited. "No, that's not always what that means. Lots of people probably have the name 'Carson' and lots of people that we don't know have the last name 'Montgomery.'" She purposefully avoided Derek's gaze as she spoke, but she could see the tilting of his head from the corner of her eye.

"Well," said Derek as he straightened up from his kneeling position. "Are we ready to go? I thought we could take the Range Rover. For old times' sake." He smirked, and Addison knew he must be remembering just how much she hated his old Range Rover. But Addison was only reminded of how much she had hated Seattle and the person she had watched her husband become—the person she knew he wasn't.

The car ride was anything but awkward, which honestly surprised Derek. The woman in his passenger seat had seemed troubled, at the least, when they had met earlier in the day. But this person next to him was friendly—if not borderline _bubbly_. Though he had been involved with many women in his life, had grown up with four sisters, and had been married twice now—Derek Shepherd still had to say he did not understand women. How could they so quickly change their minds, attitudes, and even hearts?

"This turn?" he said upon seeing what looked like a fairly crowded beach park ahead to his right.

"That's the place. Best park this side of town." She smiled, confidence tracing her lips; glowing out from her oceanic eyes. Something about her seemed to match the Malibu lifestyle so well when Derek took in her appearance—he imagined with a smirk that Barbie dolls could be made in her image.

"See that, Jim?" he glanced in the rearview mirror at the look on his son's face. He looked so much like Meredith when he was excited: the way he bit his lip as his catlike green eyes grew wider with anticipation… There was no mistaking his mother in him. But the smile… Derek knew the Shepherd smile anywhere; like the boy had been named for his grandfather, so he too had inherited the same cheeky, alluring grin of both men before him.

"Daddy, we're here! Hurry, hurry, stop the car!" He was holding his weight up with the palms of his hands spread flat on the edges of his car seat, craning his neck over the driver's seat to get a better look through the windshield.

"Haven't you ever been to the beach before?" Carson said from the seat next to him, where she was buckled into a Chanel safety seat. Derek had had a good laugh out of that—he hadn't realized six-year-olds required Chanel car seats, but Addison had proved him wrong on that, and not for the first time.

"'Course I have. It's just my _favorite_. Don't you have a favorite?" Derek heard his son say curiously.

"Sure I do." Carson's voice was almost defensive. "My favorite is… _Slurpees_."

Derek raised his eyebrows at this as he maneuvered the Range Rover into a parking spot. The inflection the girl placed on the last word of her sentence sounded very familiar, and Derek was sure she only chose Slurpees as her "favorite" to get on her mother's nerves. He thought it would be best if he played along.

"You give her Slurpees, Addison?" He tried to sound as patronizing as possible, and was pleased with the outcome.

"I don't—_of course not_." The annoyed indignation in her voice was evident, which was precisely what Derek had aimed for. "Cooper, my coworker, is … _eccentric_. He thought it would be just great if he bought Carson and his son, Devon, Slurpees for breakfast."

"So, 'eccentric'—nice way of saying he's crazy?" He put the vehicle in park and pocketed the keys.

"No," Addison said over the hood after they had exited to release the restrained children in the back, "he just … has his own way of doing things. But I'm going to have to have a serious talk with him about this. You'd think a pediatrician would know better…"

The beach contained more people than Derek thought it might have in November. There were three other families in his line of sight, several couples, and many other people milling about in the ocean. One guy was surfing; a gaggle of women lay on towels milking the last of the season's sunrays; and three young children were tugging the leash on an energetic Golden Retriever, breathless with laughter all the while. He was suddenly feeling nervous; his confidence about the situation beginning to ebb away. Was this as good an idea as it had seemed in Seattle? Or an hour ago, for that matter? So much needed to be discussed, and Derek could sense that she felt the same way under her exceedingly calm facade.

They wandered down to a relatively vacant strip of sand, and Derek staked in the beach tent that he had purchased at the surf shop. James dragged the cooler behind him and Carson carried the bag of "essentials." Addison trailed behind, a contented smile on her face as she looked out across the ocean.

When all was settled in and the children had been lathered in sunscreen, James tore off his shoes and ran straight for the water. "Come on!" he yelled, turning to run backwards and beckoning the others toward him.

"Careful, Jamie, we're coming," Derek called, placing a hand over his eyes to block the sun. He turned to Addison and offered her a lopsided grin. "You in?"

She laughed. "Of course." He kept his eyes trained on James as the pair of them removed their overclothes, and Addison helped Carson out of her sundress.

"Do I _have_ to swim, Mommy?" she pouted.

"What else are you going to do?"

"I'll build a sandcastle, of course." She placed a hand on her hip and pointed to the bag she had carried, which contained shovels and buckets.

Addison smiled approvingly at her daughter, then turned to Derek with a shrug and a shake of the head. "She's stubborn," she commented as they walked toward the water, where James stood knee-deep, bent over snorkeling in the shallow water. Without meeting his eye, she continued, "I like to think she gets it from her father."

Derek was unsure how to respond to such an awkward statement. "Oh, right, because you're not at all a stubborn individual. I'd forgotten."

"Very funny." They stood at the shoreline, Derek squinting out at the horizon and Addison observing the boy with his head underwater. "Yankees, huh?" She glanced at the baseball cap he wore with a simper.

"Always." He smirked.

"_You_ are a disgrace. And you never change." She folded her arms over her bikini-clad chest.

"Oh, what, you think just because your precious Red Sox win a World Series or two I'll throw in the towel and jump ship? Please."

"You're just jealous. And you should be. Keep your hat, you'll be eating it this time next year." She laughed softly. He was glad they could do this so easily. But he wondered to what these moments were a precursor… But it wouldn't be long before he found out.

"So," Addison was saying under their umbrella-tent as James and Carson constructed one of the Transformers out of sand. "Do you think … we could talk?"

Derek felt the corner of his lip involuntarily twitch downward as he tried to tame his face into a casual expression. His fingers found their way around the stem of the wine glass he had been drinking from, buying him time to suitably react. He chose the easy way out: "Isn't that what we've been doing? With the words and all?" This was what he had wanted—to actually talk—but he somehow didn't feel at all prepared for the conversation that would ensue.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Derek, seriously." She glanced up at him curiously, then sighed. "How are you and Meredith?" The smile she wore now was only a polite one—perhaps she had forgotten how well he could see through her.

He took a moment to answer, trying to find words to describe to her the mess in which his personal life was. "I… am… not a good husband, Addison," he said slowly, in a low voice. He was feeling, for the first time in a long time, very ashamed of himself.

"Derek," she protested in a soft tone, "you're a good guy."

He snorted at this. "I was awful to you."

"You were… confused. I was too."

"That's no excuse." His words were barely a whisper.

There was silence for a moment, which Addison broke by standing up and looking down at him. "I know." But she smiled again, and offered Derek her hand. "Let's go build a Deceptiwhatsit."

"Decepticon," he chuckled, taking her hand and dusting the sand from his trunks. "But I'm pretty sure that's an Autobot they're working on."

"Dad, look," said James, tugging at his father's hand. "We builded Optimus Prime!"

Derek did look, and though the lump in the sand looked nothing like a transforming alien robot, he nodded and grinned. "You sure did, didn't you?"

"We used these pretty seashells Jamie found to make the eyes," said Carson, pointing to the shells in question and looking up proudly at Derek.

His face softened at the innocent triumph in the girl's eyes, at the familiar smile she wore. "Those are very nice. Good job, both of you."

"Aww, your kids are so cute!" A passerby woman was saying to Addison, who immediately looked awkward.

"Oh—they're—yeah, they're cute, aren't they? Thank you." She glanced uncomfortably at Derek, who just shrugged.

"They look just like Daddy," the lady continued to gush, turning her attention to the dark-haired children—both of whom looked utterly confused. "Hi there, what's your name?" she said to James.

But the boy who had just been animatedly describing the laser he had given his sandy Optimus Prime withdrew behind his father's legs.

"He's shy," Derek explained reflexively, placing a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Aww, that's okay. You guys have fun!"

"Weird," Addison said, stepping closer to Derek, meeting his eye cautiously.

"Yeah." But his mind was somewhere else entirely. He turned his gaze away from her and into the direction of the dull November sun, which was beginning to drain toward the horizon, giving way to a clear purple in the distance. "We should go."

"Nooo, Daddy, it's still light out, can't we just stay til it's dark?"

Derek sighed and turned to his left to glance at Addison, who nodded her okay. "I suppose so, _just_ until it gets dark. But no swimming."

"Why?"

"Because of sharks." Derek could have sworn he heard Addison make a scoffing sound under her breath, but chose to ignore it.

"James really is cute," she commented when they were out of earshot of the children. "He seems so… grown-up."

Derek wore a mask of stolidity as he said gently, "James has Asperger's. It's… fairly mild, in comparison to other children his age with it. And… Meredith doesn't exactly know."

Addison laughed incredulously. "You mean, she's not been informed that her son has a form of autism? That's just something you decided to keep to yourself?" He could easily tell she didn't like the sound of that.

"It's complicated, Addie. I just want him to be normal. And he is normal, just a little bit different from other kids his age. He doesn't make friends easily, can't pick up social cues well, and has a fixation on marine life—that's really all. But he's smart and he's well-behaved, and he does well enough. There's no reason to make it a big deal as long as he's happy."

She didn't say anything for a while, just poured herself a glass of the wine from the cooler and sat down next to him. "You didn't have to tell me that, Derek."

"I had to tell someone. I've known for six months, and I've not even spoken to my son's mother about the state of his mental health." He sighed heavily and dropped his gaze to his lap. "I told you; I'm a terrible husband. And you were right: I really haven't changed."

"I was only joking about baseball…"

"Still, you were right. I'm in my forties, have my dream job, a great wife, the perfect son—and I still behave like a college kid. I'm selfish and I'm … _deceitful_, and I'm never home—"

"We don't have to do this," Addison interrupted as his tone grew darker. So Derek allowed her to cut him off and kept quiet, wondering why he had opened his mouth in the first place. But the silence was broken again with, "It's getting chilly."

"Ready to go then?"

"Yeah, I think so. Carson has school next week, then there's Thanksgiving of course. That's the last thing we need, another battle with the flu. And just in time for the holidays!" She groaned.

"Oh, I heard that." Derek climbed to his feet, feeling a flood of panic rush over him: how had he forgotten about Thanksgiving? "We should do this again sometime, though." As she stood up, he caught her eyes and held them, and was happy to see she had a genuine smile to offer him. This wasn't so bad after all.

"Maybe so. How long are you in town?"

He shifted his weight uncertainly. "Honestly, I don't know. I've got six months to just kind of … entertain myself."

"Aren't you the Chief of Surgery?" She raised her eyebrows.

He laughed, placing his hands on his hips and looking past her at their children, who were now just sitting in the sand next to one another letting the tide wash over their feet. He shook his head. "I never thought we would end up here," he whispered softly.

"What do you mean?" She turned her head to follow his gaze, and he saw her frown softly, bowing her head slightly. "There are a lot of things I didn't foresee, Derek." She didn't meet his eyes as she turned around and went up to Carson and James.

Derek wandered slowly to the shoreline, staying back a little. An unsure smile tugged at his lips as he watched her hoist James to his feet with a tickle to the ribs, eliciting a shrill laugh from the boy. She then took both children's hands. James was actually smiling, seeming content; Carson was giggling to herself. He felt his chest swell as a strange feeling of familiarity washed over him. Something about this scene seemed to fit his schoolboy days of dreaming what his life would be like with Addison. But as she took his left hand and James took his right, he didn't dare let his mind wander any further—though he was quite sure that he had struck up an unlikely but very welcome friendship with his ex-wife.

* * *

A/N: Ah! This was much longer than I had intended. AND I had planned something else for this chapter, but I didn't want to drag it out past 4,000 words. So I guess that will have to wait for next time. Thanks for sticking with it, everyone.


	8. For God's Sake, Dear

**For God's Sake, Dear  
**

A/N: Chapter title from the song _Just Say Yes_. I actually don't like this song much, just FYI. I REALLY apologize for the like, three month wait. AWFUL, I know.

* * *

When Addison returned home with Carson in tow, she felt slightly nervous to say goodnight to Derek. The scene felt twenty years old. He was smiling at her, their eyes as level as always they had been. He had a ring of sand around his neck and his aviators were pushed into his short, graying hair. Carson was explaining the garden to James, who had informed her that he needed to check for slugs. A gnawing sensation in Addison's stomach and a silly voice in her head both tried to convince her that this was right, somehow. This was how things should be. But of course, she reasoned, what she was feeling was but some remembered ghost of an emotion that she had once held for him. It wasn't real. He was married, and she had Carson. The last time she had given him another chance, he had ruined things not for the first time. Or had _she_? It seemed that lately she had trouble remembering.

"I had a nice time, Derek. Thank-you," she said at last.

His smile widened, reaching up into his eyes which were sparkling in the lamp light above her doorway. It was then that she realized just had long it had been since she had seen this particular smile—since it had been directed at _her_ and not someone like Meredith Grey … _Shepherd_.

"I'm glad to hear it. We should do it again sometime—while I'm here." Then the smile vanished and his face darkened peculiarly. "I'd better go." He turned to face the small flower garden currently being trampled by two small pairs of feet. "Come on, James, bed time." The boy was at his side in an instant, more than Addison would ever be able to say of her own daughter. They quickly said good night and left without another word in the direction of Sam's house.

Addison was utterly confused, but that was nothing new to her—especially regarding her ex-husband. She stood there for a moment and watched as James poked in the grass next to Sam's garage and Derek took out his cellular. Then she took Carson by the hand and led her inside.

"Ready for bed, chickpea?" she half-sighed, sliding out of her flip-flops and placing her sun hat on the coat hook.

Carson was heading to the kitchen, tracking sand everywhere with her little purple sandals. "No, I want some juice."

"I thought you didn't like juice anymore?"

"When did I say that? I love juice. I'm gonna have some right now."

"Nice try. You'll be up all night with that much sugar, and Mommy is too tired for that." She came to lean against the archway to the kitchen, folding her arms over her chest.

"It's the _weekend_, who cares, Mom?" She had that look on her face; that stubborn, decided expression which did not come from Addison's side of the family.

"_I_ said no, and that's all that matters."

"Well, I'm not going to bed."

Addison knew she was a strong, independent woman who had dealt with a lot in life. Sure, she had been financially spoiled for all of her life, but it seemed she made up for that in all other aspects of her life. She had not been dealt many easy cards. Yet, she had prevailed through it all and had been quite content with her life since at least her daughter had been born. However, she often felt completely at a loss for what to do. She feared she wasn't a good mother. She found Carson easily was able to take control of situations, and Addison did not know how to appropriately reach out to her to resolve their conflicts—which were nearly a daily thing at this point. She feared that her daughter need a proper father figure. Of course, there was Sam—she even called him "dad," but how long would such an arrangement last? But as soon as she thought it, Addison immediately hated herself for even thinking that having a man in her life would solve her problems. So far, the opposite had been true.

"You don't make the decisions, remember? That's my job." She pursed her lips, and was somewhat glad to see Carson's face fall slightly instead of lodging another demand or complaint. "However, as it is a Saturday, you can stay up until ten. But no later, you got me?"

"Yes." Carson crossed her feet, leaning with one hand against the counter next to which she stood. "Now let's go watch cartoons, 'kay?"

Addison smiled warmly. "That sounds good. How about the juice you wanted?"

Carson grinned, and the two had their apple juice on the couch in front of the television. They sat that way with Carson explaining the characters and situations to her mother for nearly an hour before the girl grew exceptionally quiet, before finally saying rather quietly and without turning her gaze from the cartoon on the screen:

"Who was that man today?"

Addison paused, unsure of what she meant. "I told you, sweetie, that's Derek, your mom's old friend."

"You mean your old husband." Addison could feel her daughter's eyes on her now, even if she had not been looking at her. It gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, a tingling on the back of her neck.

"Yeah, that's right. You know I was married before, but we decided we didn't love each other anymore and he married someone else. Then Sam and I fell in love and we wanted to have you."

This seemed to content Carson for a moment, and Addison was relieved at that. But after several minutes of silence she spoke again, "But Daddy—I mean, Sam—he's not my _real_ dad." It was not a question of any sort, it was more the five-year-old letting Addison know that she was aware of the situation.

Addison felt her heart jump into her throat, caught completely off-guard. She had clearly underestimated her daughter's power of deduction. "No. He's not," she managed, having to blink back tears. It felt to her that Carson's innocence was coming to an end; that her _own_ innocence was coming to an end. Everyone would have to know now... Yet she could not bring herself to say what was most important.

"I knew it." Addison was surprised to see a huge grin spread across Carson's face before she launched into a story. "All the kids at school, they look like their moms and dads. And I asked Payton how come, and she said that when moms and dads have babies, they always look like them. You know, like their eyes and their hair and all that stuff. But I don't like like Daddy _at all_. So I figured, he must not be my daddy, just like my stepdad or something, like when Teddy's mom married someone else, and he's got real dark skin, but Teddy doesn't, but Teddy still calls him 'dad' because his _real_ dad lives in prison, but Teddy said he looked like him—not like his stepdad. It's like that, right?"

Addison had to laugh at how well-prepared Carson was to explain her logic. She had not expected things to go this way when the time came to inform her daughter of this information. "So you're okay with this? That your dad is more like Teddy's stepdad, and not your real dad?"

The little girl wrinkled her brow. "Why would that matter?"

She was beyond relieved at such a reaction. "It doesn't, sweetie. What matters is that we all love you very much and nothing has to change at all if you don't want it to. Do you have any questions or... anything?" It felt odd having this conversation, though Addison had known for years it would come sooner or later.

Carson seemed to think for a moment before dropping her eyes to her lap. "Well, your last husband—_he's_ my real dad, right?"

Addison could no longer hold the tears back as she enveloped her little girl in a tight hug, pulling her into her lap. "Yes, baby. That's right." She paused, unsure whether to continue with the next question. "How did you know that?"

Carson shrugged. "I just knew it. He looks like me. The lady at the beach even said so."

Addison didn't know whether to laugh or cry now, so she simply placed a kiss to her daughter's thick, dark hair. She had to admit that it felt wonderful having her secret off her chest—even if Carson could hardly understand the magnitude of this new set of information at her present age. To no longer have to lie or avoid certain subjects, it felt nice. Now all that was left to do was to tell Derek that he had a daughter.

"So, did you kiss her goodnight?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mark."

"You kissed her, huh?" Derek could practically hear his friend's smirk on the other end of the phone.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Hey, I just know how you are with those two: married to one, sleeping with another. It's a never-ending cycle, isn't it?"

"Mark, I've only been here for two days…"

"So you _plan_ for something to happen, then?"

Derek sighed pointedly. "Call me back when you've grown up." And he hung up the phone. He wasn't upset at all; he had simply come to learn in their decades of friendship that the only way to shut Mark Sloan up was to just stop giving him attention.

"Can we go in now? I'm sleepy." James was standing next to him now, after thoroughly searching Sam's front lawn area for parasites and vermin.

Derek led the way inside, but was immediately met with a feeling akin to foreboding. A quick sweep of the area led his eyes instantly to a large collection of empty beer bottles and a bottle of rum surrounding Sam's couch—on top of which sat Sam himself. He looked over his shoulder to James, who had stopped at the doorway along with his father.

"Go on to bed, okay? I'll be there in a little while, okay?" Derek laid down his keys and moved toward the living room after hearing the bedroom door close behind James. "Sam? What's all this?"

"What does it look like, Derek?" There was something in his tone—not quite malice, but definitely close—that Derek neither liked nor appreciated.

"It looks to me like you've either had a small party or you're pretty drunk by yourself, here. Not exactly, ah, socially acceptable, is it?" He had never seen his friend like this—at least, not since college. He was very obviously upset, and drinking alone was never a symptom of anything positive.

"Bingo." Sam smiled, but Derek was hesitant to believe that he was just suddenly feeling cheerful.

"Seriously, what's the problem? There must be something wrong…"

"It's none of your business, _Derek_." He might have been a bit more for the worse than Derek had initially assumed. The hostility was already beginning to irk him.

"Are you alright? Do I need to call someone? Addison—"

"Ha!" Sam interrupted, standing up and turning to face Derek. "What's _she_ going to do? She's got no power over me, Derek. I don't care what you've heard… I'm my own man, okay? No obligations to anyone. Sam Bennett, that's all that matters to _me_."

Derek lifted his eyebrows at this; he had never said things like this before. This wasn't even the person he thought he knew. "Sam, I've not 'heard' anything. But aren't you, erm, her daughter's father?"

Sam bent over at the waist laughing, nearly spilling his drink on the floor. "Are you an _idiot_ or something these days, Shep?" He swayed slightly where he stood when he came back to full height.

Derek could feel his temper beginning to rise. "Of course not. Obviously you're not her biological father; she looks nothing like you."

Sam narrowed his eyes and pointed at his friend a finger on the hand holding his beer. "It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure that out, Derek. Had you even seen her—before today?"

Derek's eyes darted away from Sam's, and he was aware of his chest swelling as he took a deep breath in an attempt to regulate his thought process. Whatever was troubling Sam was beginning to annoy him, too. "I'd seen pictures," he stated matter-of-factly, bringing his gaze to meet Sam's again, unconscious of the fire beginning to burn in his eyes.

"That so? Then where the _hell_ have you been?" Sam took a step closer to Derek, his index finger still raised accusingly. "I know it didn't escape your notice, Shepherd. So tell me, _where the hell have you been_?"

"Sam—you're drunk. Stop talking before you say things you don't mean to say."

"No, I know what I'm saying. And I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Addison's daughter—_my_ daughter—the little girl I've helped her raise for five years—" Sam was in his face now, his finger poking Derek's chest, "—is _yours_."

Derek's temper couldn't contain itself any longer as he pushed Sam's arm away and angrily shouted, "I KNOW!"

* * *

A/N: Hopefully the next chapter will be faster coming out. :-/


	9. Open Your Eyes

**A/N: **So, it's been quite a while. My sincerest apologies. The title is the same as the song _Open Your Eyes_ by Snow Patrol. Coincidentally, it is the same song played during the scene in which Derek and Addison decide that it's over in episode 2 of season 3, "I Am a Tree." The clip for this can be found on youtube: Ep3eWCmw6MU

* * *

Sunday passed rather uneventfully for Derek and James. Sam had not been seen since the previous evening's argument, and Addison had informed him whilst at the beach that she intended to visit with Naomi the next day. So Derek spent most of the day out of doors with his son who practiced his "pitching" skills (as best as can be said for a four-year-old), showed his father all sorts of "critters" as he called them, and of course snorkeled in the shallow waves. It was nice to relax away from others and away from the demanding responsibilities of the hospital. But he was very aware that it could not last.

The next morning, Derek awoke early, already having plans for his day. He was surprised when he caught sight of Sam sitting on the couch drinking coffee and wearing sweats. When Derek caught his eye, the other man smiled a little hesitantly.

"Hey, there's fresh coffee in the pot," he offered.

"Thanks, Sam." Derek felt a bit awkward, but tried not to let it show.

There was a thick silence as both men sipped their drinks from the separate rooms. It was clear that neither wanted to speak first, but Derek was glad when it was Sam who finally did.

"Look, I know I was way out of line the other night. I apologize for it. I was immature, drunk off my ass, and just all-around not a very good friend to you... or to Addison. I should not have brought up the things that I did." He wasn't looking at him as he spoke, though Derek could feel the guilt permeating from his friend like heat from a flame.

"Seriously, Sam, don't worry about it. We've all been there. You were just looking out for … for them. No reason to let some little argument come between friends, right?"

Sam turned sideways on the couch to face him now. "Do you want to talk about it—or anything...?"

Derek nodded as he washed back another drink of his straight black coffee. "I do. But not right now. I need to find someone to watch James for the day, if that's even possible."

Sam shrugged. "I'm not going in today, I wouldn't mind at all."

Derek chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. "I shouldn't be gone very long." He hesitated another moment, thinking of James's Asperger's. "If anything at all—even the smallest thing—happens, call me. You're sure you're alright with this?"

"Absolutely. Maybe I could atone for my, ah, actions."

Derek knew now was not the time for such discussions, so he only nodded noncommittally. Today, he had an important issue to discuss. And though he was nervous, he had to admit that he was also more than a little excited.

0o0o0

Violet had not been having a good morning. Lucas had not been interested in getting out of bed, so Pete had had to go upstairs and drag him out, which resulted in an argument over Violet's assertiveness. They had taken separate vehicles to work after that. In her mindset, she had not realized that she was nearly out of gas and came a hair from becoming stranded on the freeway. Then when she got to the parking lot, she had misstepped in her heels and twisted her ankle.

But all of that seemed to fade away when she stopped in front of the elevator.

He was looking at her. She had to look away when her eyes bulged and her cheeks reddened. _Oh. _The man standing next to her had his hands behind his back, his head turned up toward the the lights above the elevator. But she could tell that he was looking at her in his peripherals.

"Good morning," he said, glancing over after what seemed an eternity, giving Violet a polite smile.

"Mhm," was all she could get out before the elevator _ding_ed open. The man, attractive beyond comparison _and looking at her_, crossed into the elevator and she followed.

"Which floor?"

"Um. Three?" She shouldn't have made that sound like a question. He probably thought she was insane now. _Not that it matters_, she reminded herself. She watched as he pressed the button for her, but her face fell considerably when he selected the fourth floor.

Violet hurried off the elevator, awkwardly smiling in the general direction of the other occupant. She quickly sought out Naomi and Addison, who were in the conference room.

"Hey, Vi, we were just discussing Sam. Have you heard from him?" Naomi garbled through a mouth full of a chocolate muffin.

"Um, no, why would I have heard from him?"

"Because no one else has—except Naomi, of all people. He called her this morning to say he wouldn't be coming in. And then he just hung up! Weird, right?" Addison tilted her head to one side. "Why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"Like you've just seen Brad Pitt naked. _Dish_." Naomi grinned, tossing the plastic muffin container in the recycling bin.

"Oh, right, that." Violet laughed, a bit nervously, and glanced around quickly to make sure Pete or Cooper weren't within earshot. "I saw _the_ most gorgeous man on the elevator this morning. And I couldn't shake this feeling that he was... well, _looking_ at me."

Addison looked past her friend to the person stepping off the elevator and couldn't stop her eyes from narrowing, or a smirk from forming at the corner of her lips.

Violet followed Addison's gaze and her jaw nearly dropped. "Oh my God, that's him."

"Violet, you're happily married, remember?" said Naomi before turning around as well, and meeting the visitor with a similar expression. "Oh."

"What's he doing here?"

"You know him?" Violet clearly had not taken the time to put two and two together. "Is he a patient—or a doctor—or—?" But she saw the look on Addison's face and immediately fell silent.

0o0o0

Derek approached the women, one of whom was staring a hole through him. The other, more familiar, two seemed to be glaring. His heart was beating a little too fast, his palms were sweaty, and he could hardly bring himself to meet the redhead's eyes. Oh, but he did, and he found that he did it well. "Addison. Naomi. Who's your friend?"

"Derek." He didn't like the narrowing of her eyes or the matter-of-fact way she stated his name, both while ignoring his question. It was always a bit unnerving for her to greet him in this way; recalling back to him memories of late nights coming home, anniversaries and birthdays forgotten, plans never kept, trust broken, and one—or probably now two—very failed marriages. It reminded him of his shortcomings.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I had nothing better to do."

"So you made the decision to come bother me at work?" Naomi and the woman he recognized from th elevator both raised their eyebrows, if it was even possible, higher.

"I invited him here, Addison. He _said _that you were aware." Now another, darker pair of eyes was glaring at him. And it wasn't even nine o'clock.

"Well," said his ex-wife, "I wasn't. But," her expression softened a fraction, "I have a consults and a surgery first thing this morning, so I'll just leave you to it." And she flashed him a smile—no, a _warning_, he couldn't help thinking.

"What did you do to her?" Naomi rounded on him at once. The still-nameless woman beside her appeared to be searching for a safe exit.

"I—nothing," he stammered helplessly. That much was true. Unless she had learned of his argument with Sam, which did not seem very likely, he could not think of a reason for Addison to be upset with him. His eyes drifted to the other woman, and he proffered a hand, compulsively trying to recreate normalcy. "Derek Shepherd."

"So I gathered." _She_ did not seem very happy with him, either. "Violet. Violet Turner. I'm married." Derek blinked at this. What an odd thing to say. Violet Turner must have thought so, too, for she muttered something about a patient and excused herself, leaving Derek alone with Naomi, whose eyes were practically slits as she didn't take them off of him.

"Why did you come here, Derek?"

"The patient—"

"No. _Really_. Why are you in California at all?"

"Naomi, I can't—" he began apologetically, but she cut across him.

"You hurt her, all those years ago. I don't think she ever completely healed. She had you under lock and key, in the back of her mind where you _belonged_," she was moving, seemingly unconsciously, toward him now, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. "And then you came back, and you hurt her _again_ in a way—in a way I can't even _imagine_, Derek. So if you have some ulterior motive, some plan or selfish complex you've still not mastered, then you better come clean. _Now_."

Derek had known Naomi long enough to know that right about now, he needed to be taking her seriously. Still, he was more than surprised at what he said next. "I love her." And though he should have stopped there, he found that he couldn't—or perhaps he simply didn't want to. "I've always loved her. Last time, I intended to never leave here. I planned to stay. But I—I was weak."

There was a very pregnant pause, which seemed to fill the posh lounge room to bursting. "You love her." It wasn't a question. "So, what about your wife? Are you just going to give her up? Again?"

"I don't know, Nai, I don't exactly have a plan." His voice broke slightly, a hand raked through his salt-and-pepper hair.

Naomi shook her head with apparent disbelief. "You are some piece of work, Derek Shepherd."

0o0o0

Derek consulted with the patient Naomi had asked him to come in for, which turned out to be a case entirely unrelated to neuro. The rest of the day he spent waiting for Addison to return from the hospital. He met most of the staff and reassured several of them that yes, his sister was enjoying being back in New York. He was in the middle of not meeting Naomi's eye in the hallway when the elevator _ding_ed open, revealing a familiar, tall redhead. It was barely past noon, but she already looked exhausted, so he approached warily, just in case.

"Hey. How were your consults?"

She seemed to look through him, far beyond him as she answered: "I've had better."

He dropped his gaze from her face to his shoes, understanding all too well what those words meant. "Do you want to talk about it? Maybe over a cup of juju?"

She seemed to visibly relax at that, the beginnings of a small smile playing about her lips. "I think that might be the best idea you've had all week."

0o0o0

Addison sat, in a considerably better mood than she had been all day, across from Derek in a local coffee shop. They both sipped a rather traditional cup of coffee, for the moment in silence; losing a patient never got any easier.

"I was wondering," said the neurosurgeon reticently from behind his cardboard cup, "whether you had plans for Thanksgiving?"

Addison considered this, somewhat taken aback; it was not a question she had expected. She also did not much feel like answering his question truthfully; it was too pathetic. "Well, I suppose Carson and I will be joining Charlotte and Cooper..." She didn't want to admit that she had originally intended to spend the holiday with Sam and Naomi before Sam had stormed out of her living room.

"No way," replied Derek firmly. "You're coming to New York with James and me."

"New York," she repeated baldly. "Derek, I haven't been to New York since—" _since I aborted your best friend's love child? _"—since before Seattle," she finished safely.

Her ex-husband seemed to consider her over the top of his drink before taking a sip. He fixed his eyes on her for a moment longer before opening his lips to barely more than whisper, "Then I believe that it is high time you returned."

* * *

**A/N: **I know it reads like filler, but that's because... well, it is filler. Which is why it took so long to write. I'm terrible at filler. Hopefully, you're able to stick with it long enough for the next chapter to come out (which should be _relatively_ shortly).


	10. The Only Thing I Can Remember

**Chapter 10  
The Only Thing I Can Remember**

**A/N: **The title for this chapter is taken again from _If There's a Rocket, Tie Me to It_ which also happens to be the song that inspired this whole project. So, if you've not heard it, check it out ASAP. :)

* * *

_Derek_,

_It's my seventh night here, and I'll start by saying that it is of course, nothing like I expected. I thought that I had built up a decent picture in my head of the condition people would be in, how their temporary "homes" would look. In my head I thought I knew the sort of "food" they would be eating, the _color _their water would be... Nothing could have prepared me for this. To be honest, I don't know whether I can really tolerate it. You come from places like Boston and Seattle, and you think you can at least _grasp _what life must be like in a war-torn third world country, until you actually visit one for the first time. Then it hits you in the face that you didn't have a _clue_._

_Other than that, though, things are okay. I had a terrible layover in Cairo before landing in Nyala—even the internet was out, or I would have contacted you before now. I share quarters with an affable woman named Marie LaFayette. She's a French-Canadian general surgeon, and she's promised to help me improve my French. That's another thing; more natives here than doctors speak English. Many of them are French._

_Oh, my internet access time is nearly up. Give James a kiss from me. Stay safe traveling._

_Love,_

_Meredith_

Derek hesitated before navigating his browser from Meredith's brief letter and back to his inbox. He sighed heavily. It had been two weeks since his arrival in California, yet this was the first he had heard from his wife. Honestly the first time he had wondered where a letter was, had been the instant he saw her name in his e-mail. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach at this realization. His wife, her whereabouts, and safety status should have been rather high up on his internal list of priorities. He hated himself for realizing that those things were hardly even on the list al all, that he had taken them all for granted to be _okay_. He hated himself for the fact that all of his time lately had been spent throwing back could ones over games of poker and blackjack with new friends, and finding excuses to spend time with his ex-wife and daughter. But, no, came another realization, he didn't hate himself for those things at all. Though that thought alone was enough for him to feel quite deplorable.

Derek stood up from his laptop, closing the lid as he did so, and stretched. It was eight a.m. on November twentieth. Yesterday had been long and, admittedly, exhilarating. He had held a scalpel in his hand for the first time in what felt like months, and had actually saved a woman's life with it. That kind of high never got old, and Derek's tolerance for it was currently low. So low, that even this morning he was still feeling the effects. He strode out to Sam's deck, allowing the cool, salty air to tangle his fresh-from-the-bed hair. Almost reflexively, he turned his head slightly to the right where his eyes landed on what they had been hoping to see.

He waved to the robed redhead, who returned the gesture with a raise of the mug she was carrying. Derek all but suppressed a grin as he held up a finger and darted back inside. Sam had left early that morning for his daughter's home in San Diego, so the house belonged to the Shepherd men until after Thanksgiving.

Derek found James in front of the television watching _The Magic School Bus_. "Hey, Jamie, how would you like to go see Aunt Addie and Carson?"

James whipped his head around at this suggestion. "Yes, please." He made to get up, but hesitated. "Carson has _Magic School Bus_ at her house too, doesn't she?"

Derek smiled, shrugging on a jacket over his pajamas. "I'm sure she does. Get your shoes and a jacket on, now."

James did as he was told, as always he did, and within five minutes Derek and his miniature were knocking on Addison's front door.

"Oh—coming!" came a small girl's voice from the other side.

"Check the peep hole first, honey." Derek heard the sound of a patio door sliding shut before the door swung open and a young girl with dark, somewhat tangled curls stood before him.

"It's okay, Mommy, it's just Uncle Derek and James!" she shouted, moving aside so the two Shepherds could come inside.

"Inside voices, Carson. And did you comb your hair like I told you?" said Addison as she came to stand behind her daughter. She fidgeted with the lapel of her silken robe, bringing her eyes up to meet Derek's, seeming to have grown used to Carson ignoring her questions. "If you had said you were coming over, I would have at least changed..."

Derek stepped across the threshold, smiling as James and Carson ran off to watch their Saturday morning cartoons. "Addison, we occupied the same cage for eleven years. You don't need to dress up for me." His smile turned wry, his words a little drier than normal.

Addison scowled at him, but he knew her well enough, even now, to know the expression was not to be taken seriously. "You don't have to remind me," she responded in a monotone.

"Didn't enjoy our time together?" he quipped facetiously, hands behind his back and a mock look of seriousness on his face.

"Oh, please. Let's be normal. Just this one day. Can we be normal?"

"You _do _realize that there is absolutely _nothing_ normal about our friendship?"

She paused, dropping her free hand from her lacy lapel to her hip. "Is that what we're calling it now? A friendship?"

Derek grinned, a little mischievously. "Let's don't be awkward, now, Addie." The pet name was off his tongue before he could stop himself. What sort of game were they playing right now, anyway?

She threw back her head, looking desperate. "Ugh, why, _why_ do you have to be so _weird_?" And she began walking away from him at that.

"Oh, I apologize. Let's try some 'normalcy,' as you said, then. What's for breakfast?" He asked pleasantly, following her into the kitchen, where she began rinsing out her mug.

"Oh, well, I hadn't given it much thought. I suppose it's just a cold cereal kind of morning." She placed the mug back on the hook by the coffee mug as she spoke, then turned to face him, both hands on hips now.

Derek laughed. "Addison Montgomery! Cereal? On a Saturday morning?" He shook his head patronizingly and moved to the refrigerator, feeling at once in his element.

He heard a groan from behind him as he sifted through the contents within. "What are you _doing_?"

"What's it look like? Making breakfast." He retreated from the icebox with arms full.

"No way! Go home and make your own breakfast!" She glanced around, and found a copy of yesterday's paper by the sink, which she proceeded to swat him with, laughing buoyantly.

Derek joined in with her contagious laughter as he spread the ingredients for pancakes and eggs on the nearest counter top, ducking easily out of her reach. He spun around, lunging for the paper, but she was just quick enough for his hands to come up empty. He made another swipe as she made another swing at his shoulder. This time, he caught her hand, causing the redhead to spin toward him. Both laughing hysterically at this point, their bodies crashed together. A silence fell rather abruptly, eyes meeting like two pairs of blue magnets. And there was something in Addison's gaze that Derek recognized, something he had not seen from anyone, let alone _her_, in a long time. It would later be this look on which he blamed his next action.

A hand was cradling the back of her neck in an instant, eyes fluttered closed and lips met, a little forcefully. A hand was snaking around his waist, pulling him closer as her lips parted. Derek responded without hesitation, without thought, deepening the kiss he had so sorely, so terribly missed. He felt her free hand gripping at the back of his T-shirt. The hand not at the moment tangled in auburn hair gently placed fingertips upon her abdomen, began tugging at the knotted belt on her robe—

"Derek." The kiss was broken with a sharp intake of air. Her hands flew from him as if burned. "Derek, the kids—" She broke off distractedly. "You're married, and I—Carson... We can't do this. _I _can't do this. _This isn't right_ and it isn't _fair_ for you to do this again." She met his eyes, and where he expected to see anger or at least sternness, there seemed instead to be a certain pleading look. "It's not fair to me, or to Meredith. It's not fair to those children in the living room who would be... _so _confused. And honestly, Derek, it's not fair to _you_. You deserve so much better. You deserve _one good_ woman. Constantly going between the two of us is... well, it can't be healthy." She paused and swiped at her watery eyes. "Pancake mix? That sounds like a _great _idea."

o0o0o

Addison knew, after breakfast and after Derek and his son had returned to Sam's, that she had brought that on. That near miss had been entirely her fault because she had been, well, _flirting_ with her ex-husband. But that _look _had been in his eye again. That same look she was sure she had seen beneath her porch light as she had said good night after their day at the beach. The worst part—or perhaps the most easily excusable part—was that she hadn't been able to help herself. And judging by the way he touched her, he hadn't been able to, either. It had been a long time since she had been with a man, and she felt a pang of painful sympathy when she realized that, married though he was, Derek was probably sharing the same sentiment. That explained it, then. It wasn't a matter of old feelings returning like some cheesy Barry Manilow song, it was simply human physiology working against them; an itch they both couldn't help wanting to scratch.

But, Addison thought as she arranged the breakfast ware in her dishwasher, they would have to scratch their itches with someone (or some_thing_, even) else, because _she_, for one, was not going to allow herself to end up in the same position as last time.

o0o0o

_Meredith,_

_I'm glad to hear that you're well, and sorry to hear that you don't like it there. I'm sure that you'll get used to it. Your room reads like an interesting person. It's good that you're making friends, at least. I hope you're staying safe over there, that you've not done anything terribly silly. I'm joking, don't bite my head off._

_James and I are doing well stateside, though I don't believe you actually asked. But who am I to blame you for that, when you've obviously got a lot on your mind? We're spending Thanksgiving in New York with my mother and sisters. Amelia is due to any day now. God help my mother, having to deal with sixteen grandchildren! I hope you have someone to celebrate with over there._

_There are some things that we need to discuss when you find the time._

—_Derek_

He leaned back, away from the computer screen, unsure whether to press "send." The letter seemed so dry, so forced. When had that happened? Could he not _stay_ in lovewith one person? Was there something _wrong_ with him? But a small voice in the back of his head answered, _But there _is _someone you've always been in love with, someone you've neve stopped loving, not really._

Derek pressed send.

* * *

**A/N: **Thoughts? Suggestions? Updated quickly enough for you? I'm thinking we'll do Thanksgiving next, what do you lot think? Also, sorry for the length. Next chapter should be longer!


	11. Please Don't Go Crazy

**Chapter 11  
Please Don't Go Crazy**

**A/N:** So, this chapter kind of got away from me. I guess I like writing about Derek's family and never knew it? Anyway, the title comes from the song _How to be Dead_ by Snow Patrol, of course, off their third album, _Final Straw_. This will be sort of a two-part chapter (maybe three—hopefully I can manage just two, though). Anyway, here's the first part, enjoy!

* * *

"This is awful. I mean, absolute torture. Why are we doing this?"

"James wanted to."

Addison cringed. She could think of few things worse than this. "I'm glad he likes to try new things, but... really, couldn't we have rented a car, or arranged for someone to pick us up?"

"Addison," said Derek from the back seat, "I happen to like taxis. Sure, they often smell a bit funny, but it supports the working class." Addison sighed heavily at this, but their driver nodded approvingly. She, personally, could think of lots of ways to support the working class that _didn't_ involve trying to figure out what the different stains in your seat were. Then Derek leaned forward and whispered, presumably so the children would not hear, "You know, I think I know where Carson gets it."

She offered him a suspicious look. "What are you talking about?"

Derek smirked. "You're a brat. A spoiled one at that."

"Hey!" Carson leaned past James to glare at Derek. "That's mean! You can't call my mom mean names!"

Addison shrugged. He was right. She _was_ being a brat, and Carson _was_ a brat too, though she had a very different opinion regarding from which set of genes their daughter had obtained that particular trait. And anyway, he had not seemed to mind so much that she was a brat when they had been married. In fact, he had repeatedly informed her that it was _endearing_. "It's okay, sweetie, he's only joking." He was still crazy about the taxi though.

It was but a short drive from the Newburgh airport to Carolyn Shepherd's sprawling old Victorian, set apart from the small suburban neighborhood that had grown up around it by a handful of acres and a circular thicket of trees and shrubbery that looked to have last been trimmed during the Victorian era itself. It was the kind of place, as Addison had learned the hard way before "Shepherd" had been affixed to her name, that would be easily missed if you didn't know precisely where the turn was, or whether it was even there. She marveled inwardly at her still-intact ability to direct the driver toward the cobbled driveway. And then, upon seeing the historic, pale-green house, she immediately felt nervous. What had she been _thinking_, agreeing to come _here_ with _him_? Carolyn hated her. Derek had thought for the duration of their marriage that she had liked Addison, but in truth, his then-wife and mother had not had the heart to tell him otherwise.

They began unloading their luggage in the drive when Derek's ever-tough mother appeared in the open garage doorway. Addison saw James sling his backpack over his shoulder before running to the hawk-like old woman.

"Gramma, Gramma!" He collided with her and she picked him up, laughing. Addison couldn't help but feel impressed—and faintly intimidated—by her strength.

Addison looked away when Carson tugged lightly at her hand. "Mommy?" She looked ever bit as nervous as Addison felt. "Should I call her 'Gramma' too?"

"Yes." Addison was surprised to hear Derek answer. "You absolutely can if you want. Otherwise—"

"I like 'Gramma,'" Carson interrupted, looking over at James and his grandmother, who were joking happily.

Addison did not miss the fact that Derek avoided her eyes as he arranged their luggage on the pavement. She bent to help him, and was lost in revery. The scene felt too cozy to be allowed. Carson was introducing herself to Carolyn, James was back on the ground struggling with a shoelace, and she and Derek were weighing luggage to determine who would carry what. But the truth was destructive inside of her as ever it was. She needed to tell him, before it was too late, before it reached the point where he would never forgive her for keeping it from him. Or were they already past that point?

Derek paid the driver and the pair of them set off toward the house, and Addison tried to remember the last time they had acted out this scene, but found that she couldn't, really. Then Carolyn Shepherd's eyes met hers, and the undisguised anger in them reminded her why she loathed Thanksgiving with Derek's family.

o0o0o

Derek was bringing up the rear to the garage and, as he should have suspected his mother took advantage of it.

"What is she doing here?" she hissed. "Where's Meredith?"

"Not now, Ma," he said as he entered the house behind her setting Addison's suitcase, which had proved heaviest, down on the floor.

"Oh, yes, now." And she took his hand, leading him away from the din of the many guests upstairs to the dark silence of the basement. "That little girl—"

"—is my daughter, yes," he stated steadily. He had decided days ago to be honest here; his mother was too shrewd for anything but the truth. Not to mention, it should have been obvious to anyone who got a look at them together that they were father and daughter.

His mother, though, now wore an expression of surprise and disappointment. It hurt him some, in a way only a mother's disappointment for a child could. He knew he deserved it this time, though. "I can't say that this is the happiest news you've ever delivered..." Her voice trailed off, and she wasn't quite meeting his eye.

"Mom, you should understand, things aren't well between Meredith and I."

"Yes, where is she? I've missed her. You missed last year's Thanksgiving, Christmas, _and_ the family reunion." She met his eye now, and Derek didn't like what he saw there.

"Meredith is in Sudan, she volunteered for Doctors Without Borders—"

"And this is how you're honoring her sacrifice? By going around with your ex-wife and secret daughter? I assume your wife isn't aware of your love child, I mean? The girl _is_ your only love child, isn't she? There aren't any more—"

"Mother! You can't speak about my daughter in that way!" He had rarely heard her so angry, had rarely had he spoken to her as he just had.

Mrs. Shepherd signed resignedly. "I just wish you had at least told me before. How did you even get yourself into this situation, Derek?"

"I didn't know, myself, until a short while ago. What was I supposed to do, call you up the moment I found out?"

His mother smiled, a little sadly. "Yes, you could have. You would want James to have that kind of relationship with you, wouldn't you?"

She certainly had a knack for making him feel guilty. "I'm sorry, Mom, you're right."

"Now, would you care to explain this … bizarre situation to me?"

Derek leaned against his mother's old washing machine, making a mental note to buy her a new one, perhaps for Christmas. Arms folded over a maroon sweater vest, he shook his head, looking for the right words to say. "I love her, Ma. I've only just realized it in the past few days, but it's … it's true. Things have been bad between Meredith and I since … before James, at least. I don't think she can handle being a mother the way I'd hoped she would. She's distant, she's detached..." The words just came pouring out in the presence of the most understanding person he knew, "and at first I thought it was just PPD, but she saw a therapist, who declared her 'perfectly normal.' She saw another therapist, who said she was just stressed. She took two months off to further bond with her toddler, but... nothing.. she just," he could feel the tears threatening his eyelids now, the burning lump in his throat, "doesn't love our son, Mom. And James ... is autistic... I know there's no ... no science for it, really, but ... I can't help but think that it's his mother's fault..." His mother took his hand now, but did not try to interrupt his speech, seeming to know how therapeutic it was for him to get it all out to _someone_ at last.

"So she left, and we're separated, on a trial basis. She's written me _once_, didn't ask how James or I are doing, only about how _difficult_ her own life is in Sudan. And I tried to care, Mom, but I just... just _don't_ anymore. And I should feel guilty, or try to make it work, as I did with Addison, but to tell the truth, I just can't be bothered. I'm ready to move on, and take Jamie with me. I—" he paused uncertainly, took a deep breath, "I love Addison, have since I was twenty-three years old. Maybe it's time I stopped running from that fact, if she'll have me, or even consider me, after what I've done to her..."

There was silence for a few moments as even the room, the air itself seemed to absorb the words of the defeated man in the dark. Then, "It was a one-night stand. Nearly six years ago. I was consulting at the hospital Addison works at sometimes. Before you ask, she didn't call me down there. It was my old friend, Naomi. Amy had recently left the practice, they needed a good neurosurgeon, and certain people in certain circles like to say that I'm the best that there is. Anyway, I met up with Addison for dinner. Meredith knew about it, it was supposed to be innocent, just catching up. But, Addison had just gotten out of a relationship, it was a bad break-up. Remember our friend Sam, Naomi's husband? Well, Sam had just dumped her. So we had a couple of drinks, and one thing led to another... I had half a mind to stay. Maybe _more_ than half. But I couldn't be 'that guy' again. The guy who leaves his wife at the first sign of trouble, instead of staying and trying to make things work. So I left California for Seattle again, without so much as... as a_word_ to Addison, not even a goodbye. I can't imagine what that must have done to her.

"I've regretted that for years, Ma. It's not the kind of person I am. I know that. But, anyway, suffice it to say that my marriage to Meredith was doomed to fail. James was... an accident. A happy one—for me, anyway. I thought he might save us, make me remember why I loved her. But he's just opened my eyes to the fact that Meredith and I are restricting ourselves by trying to make it work. And once I let go of that notion, I knew who I wanted to see. And when I saw her, I remembered. I couldn't think _why_ I ever let her go. Maybe it was... well, maybe it was just the mid-life crisis cliché. But now, all I know is that I need her back. I need to know my daughter, James needs to know his sister. And we... oh, I know it sounds terribly cheesy, but we're all four these sad, sad stories, broken pieces of something bigger, and it seems like, when we're together, it just feels _right_. I feel _whole_."

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. "I'm sorry to unload all of this on you."

"No, no, my son, this is what mothers are for." She hugged him, and her hug was every bit as warm and safe as when he had been a boy. "There is one thing I don't understand." She pulled away from him to look him in the eye. "You hurt your ex-wife, and from where I stand, she has every reason to never want to see you again, child together or no. So... what is she doing here?"

Derek smiled, tears staining his cheeks. "Maybe … because there's hope."

"I'm glad to hear that." He could tell from her tone that she meant her words.

"But mother, you _must not _tell the girls—or anyone else—that Carson is mine. She and James don't know. No one knows yet. Pretend it's my and your secret, okay?"

"You have my word."

"And, please, regardless of how she got here or whether her father is a terrible, cheating bastard—sorry, language, I know—regardless, please treat her just as you would treat James or any of Nancy's or Kathleen's kids—"

"Derek Christopher." Her voice was hard now. "That _adorable_ little girl upstairs is the only daughter of _my_ only son, and I will treat her as no more or less."

He smiled at his mother and pulled her close to him again. "I love you, Mom."

"Oh, and I love you, Derek."

o0o0o

Addison was panicking. Derek had just vanished into a dark basement with his mother, who hated her, leaving Addison in the most difficult-to-explain situation she had probably ever been in.

"Addie? It's been so long!"

"Oh my God, why didn't you say you would be here?"

"Are you two back together?"

"Aunt Addie! Did you bring presents for us?"

"Hello, everyone," she said weakly. Carson was already talking rapidly to a niece of Derek's that Addison recognized as one of Nancy's daughters, though she was not sure which one. James seemed to be hiding behind her legs. "It's so wonderful to see you all again..." Luckily, she was spared the obligation of speaking further because Nancy was practically bear-hugging her.

"Addie, I haven't seen you since Kat and I flew out for Amy's wedding. How long has that been? Five years, Amelia?"

"Six. Carson wasn't born yet, remember?" said Amelia, who looked like she was ready to pop at any minute.

"And she's gotten so big," said Nancy, glancing over at the tan-skinned girl. "Her daddy must have been a looker," joked Amelia, "look at those curls!"

Addison was silently praying that no one would put two and two together, that no one would see just how much like Amelia and Derek that Carson looked, that her being here for the holiday meant something more than it really meant... But what _did_ it mean, anyway?

"There's my favorite nephew." Kathleen smiled a wide, practically trademarked Shepherd smile as she moved toward James, who was standing stock still.

Instead of greeting his aunt, Addison noticed, the boy looked worried and nervous. "Can we go somewhere else? Aunt Addie and Aunt Amy can come too, if they want."

Kathleen's smile dimmed only slightly. "Absolutely. Your cousins—Ben, Sullivan, Jack, Riley, and Harry are all playing football outside. Would you like to go see them?"

The dark-haired boy hesitated. "Do I have to play?"

"Not if you don't want to."

He nodded. "Okay, then." His eyes landed on Addison briefly as he turned in the direction of the back door, and she knew he was hoping that she would follow.

So, of course, she did, and Nancy promised to keep an eye on Carson and the other girls, which made Addison a bit nervous; Carson was not usually very good at listening to strangers. Or anyone else, really.

Outside, under the refuge of barren willows and sparse evergreens, five boys of varying ages were tossing around a football. The oldest she recognized as Jack, and if memory served, he would be about seventeen now. The last time she had seen the boy, he had been lanky and nervous about starting middle school. Now he was tall, athletic, and probably nervous about college. The next tallest boy was his brother, Riley, pudgy and asthmatic as he had been so many years ago, except that now, as a fifteen-year-old, he wore dark, baggy clothes and a strip of his dark, flat-ironed hair was blue. Next, she picked out Sullivan, who looked quite like his eldest brother, Jack: athletic, preppy, distinctly New English, even for an eleven-year-old. The next boy was easy to pick out as Ben because he was the tallest of the two African-American children in the backyard. He must be fourteen now, though Addison could remember the day he was born. So that only left Harry, the youngest of the male Shepherds until James had come along, who was now nine years old. Addison had left New York while Nancy had been pregnant with him. She felt a jolt in her stomach as she realized that her child with Mark would have been about the same age as Harry.

Addison thought that the back door she had stepped out of could have been the exit of a time machine. These children were her _family_ for eleven plus years. How had they just stopped existing in her mind? Especially when she had thought of Carson, the only child in her family. If she had stopped to realize it, she would have remembered that her daughter had fourteen cousins, presently, and a brother. She was truly less alone than she had thought.

James looked from the neurosurgeon to the psychiatrist before his eyes fell on the neonatal surgeon. "I don't have to do this, do I?"

Addison smiled, a little please for some reason that the child had asked _her_ opinion over those of his aunts. "Sweetie, you do what you're most comfortable doing. If that means throwing a ball with the boys, playing dolls or 'house' with the girls, or just hanging out with us boring old grownups—that's fine. Just do what makes you happiest."

James's cheeks flushed a light peachy color. "I wanna play, but I don't think _they_ want me to."

Addison exchanged a glance with Kathleen—three of the five boys were hers. "Do you want me to talk to them—?"

"No!" he insisted, alarmed. "They'll just call me a big baby, then! I don't want to play anymore, Aunt Addison. Can I go back inside now, please?"

"James, I know Jack, Sully, and Riley won't say anything and I'm betting that Ben and Harry won't, either," said Kathleen, placing a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "Go have fun. Don't worry about what the older boys say."

Addison smiled encouragingly, and after another moment of hesitation, the boy was bounding down the steps into the cold, dead grass.

"So, what _are_ you doing here?" said Amelia before they were even sat around the table. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you—of course, I _am—_I'm just not understanding..."

Addison, for all her usual airs of calmness and togetherness, had no idea how to answer without somehow implicating Derek, without sounding like a homewrecker, herself. "Oh," she said, stalling, "he, you know, he was just lonely, I suppose." When she noticed that the eyebrows of the two women had launched skyward, she quickly went on, "Well, Meredith is in Sudan, Doctors Without Borders and all... I assume it was just too difficult to face family alone—"

"Addison..." said the dark-haired pregnant woman across from her, "be straight with us. We're, y'know, your sisters. _Are you and my brother having an affair_?" Her voice was low, adding an extra feeling of sordidness to the conversation.

"Amelia!" said Kathleen, but Addison was sure her motherly, almost condescending tone toward her youngest sister was a front; she clearly wanted an answer as well.

"I—I—of course not!" spluttered Addison in the meantime.

"You so are! Oh my God, you are such a terrible liar!"

"She totally is!"

Addison covered her face with her hands. How did they always seem to _know _these things? Certainly Derek hadn't told them? "Alright, alright. I'll spill, but first: it's not what you think—"

"Oh, really, what about—" began Amelia dryly, sounding very much like her brother.

"Hey, let me defend myself before you throw me the book!"

Amelia crossed her arms over her very pregnant belly with a smirk, gesturing for the redhead to continue.

"He's been in Santa Monica since Meredith left. Not for me, for James. He wanted to go to the beach, and Derek wanted to, you know, visit with old friends. Which is totally reasonable, no harm there. So he's been staying with Sam, who, as you know, Amy, lives next door to me. He's helped out on a few cases at the practice … so, yes, we've seen a lot of each other. Play dates and little things like that..."

She trailed off momentarily, fidgeting her hands a bit. The two sisters looked anxious for her to continue. "But last Saturday, he came over to make breakfast, and we … sort of, might have kissed a little." She winced at her own words.

"Oh, _Addie_. You must be so conflicted. What else happened?" asked Kathleen, a sincere look of sympathy upon her face now.

"Nothing, really. I told him I couldn't be that kind of person, that he was treating his family and himself unfairly. We just carried on like nothing happened, and now … here we are. And I have _no_ idea how he talked me into this..."

"Honestly, Addie, when has he ever had to _try_ when it comes to you? He makes one _hint_ that he wants you to do something, and you drop everything for him. I thought Malibu might get you out of that, but, too late, I suppose; it must be true love." Amelia was grinning mischievously. "And speaking of that, _where_ did the two of you find the time to conceive Carson?"

Addison didn't have time or preparation enough to concoct a decent denial for this. Instead, she could only gasp, "How did you know about that!"

Kathleen and Amelia laughed. "Have you seen Amy's baby pictures? They could be twins, apart from the eyes. She definitely has your eyes. Ugh, is she ever going to be a heartbreaker!"

The horror was beginning to sink in, and she spoke as the screen door opened, "You _cannont_ say _anything_ to Derek." Someone was standing behind her now.

"What are we not telling Derek _now_?" came the voice of Mark Sloan.

* * *

**A/N:** Three cheers for a few answers and a decent length! And here's a bit of a hint for next time: if you're familiar with the song this chapter's title is taken from (_How to be Dead_), then you can probably guess the title of the next chapter. ;-)  
Let me know what your thoughts are! I have very much been appreciative of receiving such thoughtful reviews! You all are too kind. :)


	12. If I Tell You

So, I have this and the next 2½ chapters written out, so it's just a matter of finding the time to get them online. I work 30 hours a week, and am taking 19 hours of college this semester, too, so life is difficult. But I think I should be able to squeeze in the time on Wednesday afternoon for the next chapter. But don't hold me to that, please. And yes, this is a three-parter.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" The question was repeated for at least the fourth time that day, but for the first time it was Addison speaking it.

Mark looked a little confused. "I was invited? C'mon, Addie, you know I never miss Thanksgiving with Mrs. Shepherd if I can help it. I think the better question is, what are _you_ doing here? Last we talked you were supposed to be in San Diego with Sam and Naomi. Then I walk in and see Carson… what's going on?" His eyes grew as large as half-dollars. "You're here with Derek! I _knew_ that's what he was doing in California, but he stopped answering my calls… What are you three not telling him, anyway?"

"I'm very glad to see you, Mark, but Addison isn't here 'with' Derek. She came with him, yes, but she's here to see us."

"Yeaaah, okay." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "So, anyone going to give me the details freely, or am I going to have to take them by force?" He moved to sit down, looking between the three women.

Addison rolled her eyes. "Mark, you already _know_ the details. And honestly, you are _the_ biggest gossip I know. Why do I even tell you anything?"

"Because I'm your best friend in the whole world?" he offered as if it were obvious. "Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about."

Addison groaned, and then glanced around quickly to verify that there was no one nearby. "Carson. I've not told him about her yet."

"Really? She's kind of hard to miss. About three feet tall, and _mouthy_…" He whistled low.

"You know what I mean!"

"Hang on," said Amelia, "you mean you told _him_ about Carson? Isn't that a little … well, no offense, Mark, but I think everyone here knows the kind of gossip you are."

Mark seemed to be a little wounded, but it was Addison who spoke first, "I trust Mark. He's a little misguided at times, but his heart's always in the right place. And anyway, I didn't tell him about Carson, at first, I told him—well, before Derek married Meredith, after Sam and I broke up, we… had a one-night stand. But he left me directly afterward, and then I found out I was pregnant. Sam and I were trying to work things out between us at that point—he knew about Derek then, of course—and he said that he would lie for me; say that before the break-up we were trying to get pregnant through IVF, and miraculously, it worked. Everyone bought the story, and I was able to save your brother some face—though I _know_ he didn't deserve it at the time. Mark figured out Carson was Derek's on his own, since he knew when I must have conceived… He promised that he would tell no one, and he's made good on that promise so far, haven't you?"

Mark was not meeting her eyes, but he nodded. "'Course. What'd you bring this year, Ad? Hopefully not that asparagus salad or _whatever_ it was you brought back in oh-two…"

"I just got off a plane. I did not bring asparagus on a plane."

Mark frowned. "I forgot, for a minute, that it's been like ten years since the last time we were all here. Is that weird, that I forgot that we don't live an hour away anymore?"

Addison understood exactly where he was coming from, and couldn't help the frown forming on her face. "We've done this so many times in the past, it's easy to forget _when_ you are."

He nodded his agreement, and was silent for a moment. Then, "Lexie's here."

Addison's jaw dropped. "Your _wife_, Lexie? Lexie _Grey_? As in, _Meredith Grey's_ little sister? Derek's _sister-in-law_ Lexie?" She would later have to endure how cartoonish she sounded, but presently she was kicking herself for not realizing that Mark equaled Lexie.

Mark smirked. "I didn't think that would be such a big deal for someone who _wasn't_ here with my brother-in-law…"

"MARK! This is serious. It's not some stupid joke! Carson is here, and I _don't_ want Meredith discovering she exists through her _sister_!" Addison was standing now, gesturing wildly with her hands as she spoke. Amelia and Kathleen were looking like they wanted to escape the situation before it exploded.

"Addison," said Mark solemnly, "at some point you've got to start realizing that not everything is about you." And with those words, he stood up again, but instead of making a dramatic exit through the screen door, he jogged down the steps and body-tackled Jack. Some people never really changed.

o0o0o

Derek had no idea that Mark was going to be at his mother's house. He usually came to holiday gatherings, but he had thought that with a two-month-old, the Grey-Sloan family would not be in attendance. _Does no one in this family share information anymore?_, he wondered, _Or is there some sort of conspiracy going on?_

"How long have you been here?" Derek asked as he and Mark put their surgical skills to he test with paring knives on potatoes.

"Since yesterday," he said off-handedly, concentrating on his work.

"And no one thought to tell me?"

"Listen, Derek, we're not here to make sure your _wife_ doesn't find out about your _ex-wife_." He still didn't look up.

"You're not seriously trying to imply that my morality is lacking, are you?" He dropped a now-naked spud into the large bowl between them.

"Derek, you're my best friend. I mean, you really _are_ my brother now. I care about Addison and Meredith, too—you know that. I just don't want to see anyone hurt." The _thud_ of another peeled potato punctuated his sentence.

"I don't want to hurt anyone, either. Of course I don't. You know what this is like, don't you? Lexie was 'forbidden fruit' at one time. But you didn't walk away from that. Maybe someone got hurt along the way, but it all turned out okay in the end, didn't it?"

His friend looked up, laying his knife on the table and sighing. "The difference, Derek, is that I didn't have a family with someone else. I know you love Addison, and you and Meredith are separated, but it doesn't make what you're doing right, or even _okay_. And bringing her here with Carson? What was going through your head?" He frowned and resumed peeling.

_Thud_. "I admit it was a crazy idea. I should have told Mom about it first, at least." He paused, meeting his friend's eyes briefly before turning back to his potato. "I had a family with Addison first, though," he said quietly.

"Yeah, one you didn't even know about until last year! What took you sol long to go see them after you found out, if you loved Addison then, as you say you 'always have?'" There was definite irritation in Mark's voice now, and he chucked the potato in his hand into the bowl with a little too much force, causing it to sway on the spot.

"I'm not proud of my actions, Mark," said Derek, his voice even quieter now.

"I'm not going to say anything to Meredith. And I can talk to Lexie, but I can't make any promises. But," he stood up, "you need to make this right, Derek. With everyone. Tell Addison you know; you're stressing her out. Talk to Meredith. Come clean."

Derek could hardly believe his ears. The words his friend of forty years was saying seemed alien coming from his mouth. Perhaps marriage and children _had_ changed him. But furthermore, Derek thought as he picked up the heavy bowl of naked potatoes, he was right. It was simple advice, and maybe the sort of thing a younger Derek Shepherd would have been aggravated to receive. But fatherhood and life in general had humbled him somewhat, he liked to think.

The two men stood together in the silence of the kitchen, rinsing potatoes and beginning to boil them. From the kitchen window, Derek could see his nephews, son, and brothers-in-law playing a bastardization of football. Amelia, Kathleen, his eldest sister Julia, his mother, and Lexie were upstairs somewhere, fawning over the youngest member of the Sloan family. And if he bent the right way, he could see Addison and Nancy conversing in clearly low whispers at a picnic table between some trees. He wondered what they were talking about, and feared that he already knew.

"Do you think I've got a shot in Hell?"

"With Addison?" Mark paused and seemed to mull the question over in his mind. "Yes, I do. But you don't have _my_ blessing until everyone knows the truth."

"Alright, alright. You're right."

o0o0o

Addison did _not_ want to be alone with Lexie. So far, she had been successful. She was watching the younger girls play in the play room with Nancy, Kathleen, and the youngest Grey sister, worrying that the Shepherd women would leave. She had been able to speak with Nancy outside before they had been corralled into babysitting by Carolyn, and she said that she would try to stay between them. Luckily, the girls were all pretty much old enough to watch after themselves now, for the most part being over the age of ten, with the exception of Carson.

"Carson's gotten big," Lexie observed. "I know Mark visits pretty often. I'm sorry I never come with him; residency isn't easy, though." She didn't sound rude or upset, but the words _did_ sound forced.

"No, I completely understand," responded Addison from the sofa she was sharing with Nancy, whose face was neutral, unreadable. "I've not seen you since the wedding, of course. Congratulations on the baby. I'm sure Mark will be a great father." _Now,_ she thought, _that he's matured to at least the emotional level of a senior in college—being in his mid-forties._

"Yes. He is." There was something in her voice that made Addison feel squirmy now. "So. Does Derek know?"

Heart in stomach. "Know what?"

"About his daughter." Her voice was low, but clear, apparent only to the four women sitting on the perpendicularly arranged sofas.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_. "About his—"

"Please don't play dumb, Addison."

"Lexie, I don't think that Thanksgiving is the best time for this, is it?" Addison was beyond grateful for Kathleen's intervention. And why was she beginning to get the feeling that her secret was not really a secret?

"Lexie, I'm not saying you're not right, but how do you even know?" said Addison in the nicest voice she could muster.

"I—I'm not stupid, Dr. Montgomery." She seemed to be losing her courage. "She looks just like him, she smiles just like him. If you showed me Carson and told me to pick her father out of a line-up of fifty men, I guarantee you that anyone would pick Derek."

Addison felt like her insides had gone numb. "Is this something to do with your photographic memory?"

Lexie only shrugged, so Addison pressed on, determined to get to the root of the problem. "Did Mark tell you?"

Lexie's face crumpled. "You mean Mark _knows_? How long has he known? Before today?"

Addison could have literally kicked herself for that one. "I—Lexie, I don't think I should have—"

But it was too late; the damage was clearly done. Her best friend's wife, her daughter's step-aunt, Meredith Grey's sister, stormed out of the room. But Addison had the feeling that it wasn't _her_ that the young surgeon was angry with. This was not going to end well, she knew.

"You realize what you've got to do?" said Nancy from beside her.

Addison nodded. "I've got to tell him the truth, before this gets any more out of hand." Se grimaced, then got up from the couch and mimicked Lexie's exit out the door.

In the hallway, Addison didn't see where she had gone, but she did see Carolyn coming toward her, smiling.

"Oh, Addison. Just the person I was hoping to see. You know, the girls are going back home tonight—they don't live far, of course. So it will just be you, Derek, Mark, and Lexie staying into tomorrow. I wondered whether James and Carson would mind sharing the kids' room? They seemed like such good little friends." Addison found that as Carolyn spoke, she was walking up the stairs, expecting the redhead to follow, so she had little choice.

"I wouldn't have a problem with that. As long as they actually _sleep_."

"Good, good, makes things much easier. Didn't want to have to move the beds around. I'm sorry—you weren't busy, were you?" Addison had time only to shake her head politely, reflexively, before Mrs. Shepherd continued, "Would you mind terribly helping with the sheets, then?" It hardly sounded like she had a choice in this, either, as they entered the bedroom, which held a mismatching of twin-sized and bunk beds, and a couple of odd dining chairs. The room had once belonged to Amelia, back when Addison had been happily married.

The two women took sheets from the closet, shaking them out and beginning to clothe the naked beds. "She's cute," said Carolyn as Addison helped her stretch a fitted sheet. "Has your eyes, of course."

"Thank you. Yeah, she's a handful, but I think I'll keep her." Addison chuckled. She really just wanted to be out of this room.

"I know what you mean. Derek was… the good child. A little mischievous, sure, but good. Kathleen was the gossip, tattle-taling all the time. Nancy was bossy. Julia was a know-it-all. And Amelia was, of course, the _problem_ child. But that is the wonder of motherhood—and of childhood, I'm sure. No matter what, you always see the best in them; always have faith. And if you lose that faith—well, I can't say I know _what_ would happen to you or to your children. I've always had faith in all of my children, no matter their shortcomings." She paused. "Do you love my son, Addison?"

The question was _so_ like her: blunt, yet almost disguised as something else. Years of practice had taught her how to deal with this type of situation: "Yes." You told the truth, that's what you did. It was well known that Carolyn Shepherd valued nothing more than the truth.

"Hm," was all she said. Addison wondered whether she was being purposefully intimidating, now. But Addison Montgomery was not a person easily intimidated, anyway. Perhaps that was why the Shepherd matriarch had never liked her. "And what of James? Where does he fall into this picture?"

"I don't know what you mean." She really didn't.

"If Derek leaves his wife for you, what becomes of the spare child? Surely you wouldn't want to raise Meredith Grey's son?"

Addison didn't consider the underlying implications of what the older lady had said, only responded to the biting, almost cruel words. "James isn't 'spare.' I've only known him for a few weeks, but I can see that he is the best of both of his parents. He's good and thoughtful and ridiculously intelligent for a child his age. He's a wonderful boy, and I would fight Meredith Grey before I let her ruin him." Then she realized what she was saying. "Er, I don't mean that Meredith would intentionally harm her son, only—" Well, this was awkward.

"I understand. And are you certain that _should_ the two of you reconcile, Carson would get no preferential treatment for being your and Derek's only child?"

The panicked feeling, the knot in her stomach, did not even come this time. Perhaps she was just used to it by now. Instead, she only froze with the bed sheet she was tucking in held in her hand. "How did you know—about—how does everyone know?"

Carolyn looked taken aback. "I'm sorry, was I not supposed to mention it to you? I just assumed—"

"What do you mean? _Who told you_?"

"Well, Derek, naturally. But he said—"

Addison never heard just what Derek had said because she was already out of the door.

o0o0o

They were running behind in the kitchen. His mother's turkey would be out in time, as always, but it would be everything else that the house full of people ended up waiting on. Dinner was set for seven, and it was already five. Cooks were in and out, but currently it was up to Derek, Mark, Derek's brothers-in-law (Matt, Will, David, and John), Julia, and two oldest nieces (Rachel and Hannah) who were both in college, to ensure everything would be out at the same time.

Derek was currently chopping celery with a speed and skill on which he had long prided himself. When you were one of five children to a single mother, you learned to cook or you and your siblings starved. Rachel was picking up pointers from her uncle as they carried along.

"…You just have to make sure it's a fluid motion. Don't think to much about it, but be mindful of where your fingers are at all times," he was saying as the kitchen door banged open.

He and the rest of the room's occupants looked around to see a fiery redhead, who appeared to currently have an attitude to match. She glanced around at them all, hands on hips. Derek knew that whatever was going on, it was not good. And he had a feeling that it was something to do with him. Too bad there were no immediately accessible hiding spots. Her eyes fell on him as he thought this, and his worst fears were confirmed.

"Everyone out," she demanded.

Most people left without question. Julia, Mark, John, and Will remained, and Derek knew better than to move. "I'm making a roux, I can't leave," said Mark to general nods of agreement.

"Fine. Stay if you have to." She didn't look away from Derek. "Raise your hand if you knew who Carson's father was before today. _Not you_," she said pointedly to Derek.

All other hands went into the air.

"That's what I thought," she said crisply. She was advancing on him, and her face was so livid, yet so controlled, that Derek's immediate instinct was to tighten his grip on the knife in his hand. Then he remembered that that was stupid.

"You knew," she said when she was practically in his face. "How long?"

He would have liked to pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about, but now was definitely not the time for that. "I've known for just over a year." He tried to keep his voice calm, the guilt out of it; he hadn't done anything wrong, after all.

"Uh-huh. I see." Everyone was staring; progress in the kitchen had come grinding to a halt. "So that's why you came to California. Not for James or for—for me, but because you felt guilty. Am I right?"

"No. That's not right." Short, honest answers seemed best here.

Addison nodded. "Then wh—_why_?" He was surprised to hear her voice crack. "Why did you _wait_ so long? Why did you come at all after waiting as long as you did? She's your _daughter_, Derek. Would you have even come at all if it weren't for her? Or were you just being a _Good Guy_ again, coming to see her? Decided it would make you feel better?"

"Addison." Mark must also have noticed the change in her state. "This isn't how you should handle this. You know that." He moved toward her, an arm outstretched. Gingerly, he pulled her toward him, but she jerked away from him.

"You told him," she realized.

"Addison. Remember what I said? This isn't just about you. He's my best friend and you asked me to keep from him the fact that _he has a daughter_. Do you have any _idea_ what that was doing to me? I betrayed his friendship once before and it was—goddamit, Addie, don't make me spell it out for you. It was eating me alive!"

Her face fell with each word that Mark said. Derek hurt for her. He should have been truthful from the start, he realized all too late. "I'm sorry, Addison. I'm so terribly, monstrously sorry for not coming clean sooner. For not being there sooner. I am … a coward. Ask the people around you. I've known Mark since elementary school, and Julia was there the day I was born. I have always been a coward. That's why I left you, twice. It's why I didn't hop a flight to L.A. the instant I found out that Carson existed, why I have been just completely _dead_ inside since leaving you. I was wrong. I've been wrong _so_ many times. But it's not conceiving Carson or kissing you in your kitchen or marrying you when we were too young that I regret. What I regret—more than anything—is the way I've treated you. I regret the time that I've missed with you and our daughter, and I regret that you ever, _once_ felt alone, or like you weren't strong enough to carry on by yourself. I don't ever want you to feel that way again." He paused, moving toward her until their noses almost touched. He reached up a hand to cradle her chin, then another to wipe the tears from her cheeks with a thumb. "But, my love, you cannot fault me for my cowardice." His voice was a hushed whisper, the words meant only for her ears. "Where I have had a year to tell you, you have had nearly six to inform me that I had fathered your child, but you never did. I don't blame you, so how can you continue to blame me?"

Her eyes dropped to her feet, and she swallowed, sniffed. A hand connected with his briefly, squeezing it for but a fraction of a second, before it dropped back to her side. "I'm sorry, Derek. I can't do this." Then she was gone, and Derek was left behind with his family's eyes upon him.

* * *

As usual, gimme your thoughts! Sorry for any weird formatting or errors; I don't normally type these on a Mac, but I'm in a Mac lab, sooo, not much choice. I think I caught most things, though.


	13. The Truth

**Chapter 13: The Truth**

**AN: **It took a little longer than expected to get this out, so I apologize! I hope people are still reading, even though the last chapter was kind of boring. Hopefully this one will be a lot better! Only one person reviewed last time, so I probably really sucked it up, huh? I really appreciate your opinions! They help drive the story. :)

* * *

Dinner was not ready until after eight, which successfully put everyone not already in a bad mood, into a bad mood. Mark and Lexie had had it out because from Lexie's point of view, Mark had an obligation to Meredith, as her brother-in-law, to tell her about Carson. So they were not speaking. Not even "pass the potatoes." Addison seemed to be angry with everyone: at Derek for probably a lot of reasons, at Mark for telling Derek, for Mrs. Shepherd for being so stereotypically controlling, and at Derek's brothers-in-law apparently just for being nearby. In fact, the only adults Addison seemed to be speaking to at all were Nancy, Amelia, Kathleen, and Lexie. Though, on the latter it did not seem to matter much because Lexie was not speaking to anyone as, from what Derek could understand, anyone who knew (i.e., everyone) had had a moral obligation to inform Meredith. He was surprised that she had stayed for dinner at all, with the attitude she had adopted. It seemed obvious to Derek that the secrets and lies had not been in the name of self-preservation, but in the name of protecting someone else. But he supposed that, to Lexie, the most important person to protect was her oldest sister, and that was understandable.

In fact, Derek thought as he poked at his beans in the eerie silence of the dining room, he was pretty sure that, of late, he had become quite a bit more understanding. He wondered when that had begun. Definitely becoming a father had changed him for the better, and sleeping with Addison had sobered him up pretty well, too. But what had been the turning point? James? Carson? Losing Meredith? Leaving Addison a second time? Maybe all of those had come together to force him into maturity—_real_ maturity, which for all his years on Earth, he had often lacked.

Then his phone rang out from his pocket. Everyone glanced up momentarily, startled by the break in the silence, and then went back to their food as though choreographed. Nobody but Mark and his mother were speaking or really making eye contact with _him_, the "obvious" villain of the story.

He sighed, somewhat annoyed, and pushed his chair back from the table, wandering into the living room. From there he took the phone from the pocket of his slacks and glanced at caller ID.

It was his wife.

What perfect timing.

"Doctor Shepherd," he answered reflexively, his off-hand in his pocket as he began to pace the room.

"Derek? Am I interrupting? I thought dinner must be over by now." She seemed a little panicky for some reason.

"No, we got kind of a late start this year." Pause. "It's the first time you've called," he pointed out, as though Meredith might not have realized it before.

"I—I know. I'm sorry. There's just not much time or really the resources for things like that over here."

"You e-mailed once."

"Derek, I'm _sorry_, but I thought you knew what you were signing up for—"

"I didn't sign up for _anything_, Meredith." He knew he sounded harsh—probably too harsh, but the anger and frustration that he had been feeling for years now were threatening to burst free from his lips. "I don't actually recall you asking me about any of this, just you making decisions for us both—for all three of us."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "Have I done something? I get a rare moment on the phone so I can tell my husband and son 'happy Thanksgiving' but if this is how you're going to speak to me…" She trailed off vaguely, and Derek knew she was right, that none of this was really her fault. But that did not ease his mind at all.

He sank into an armchair older than him—it had belonged to James Shepherd, senior and his mother had never worked up the courage to get rid of it. It was, perhaps literally, now or never.

"No, you've not done anything. But … we need to talk. Do you have some time now?"

"So I gathered." She hesitated. "Yeah, I have time. Please tell me what's been the matter with you."

His insides felt knotted, squirming as though to get away from him before he caused serious damage. But, there was no point stalling or beating around the bush; that had never quite been his style in matters such as these. Either his marriage would shortly be over, or it wouldn't. Might as well rip off the Band-aid.

"Please don't go crazy, Meredith, if I tell you the truth right now." Deep breath, in and out, slowly. "Six years ago, when I was called in for that consult at St. Ambrose, I…" He tried to find the words; the truth was a somewhat new concept to him, "I slept with Addison. We have a daughter. Her name is Carson, and she's five years old. I've only known for a year. I just never knew how to tell you."

There was a very long pause. After a while, Derek thought the line must have gone dead, so he said, "Meredith?"

"I'm here," she said quietly. Then, "Derek. There's something you need to know before this conversation progresses."

He felt a little relieved on one hand, but even more anxious on the other. It was an odd feeling. "By all means."

"I—" Her voice broke, and it was nearly a full minute before she continued, "I knew about Carson. While pregnant with James, I knew about her. Lexie… Lexie told me, just after she was born, that the dates added up and she looked just like you. And I _wanted_ to tell you, but I knew—you named James 'Carson' and when I asked why, you said you had wanted to name your son or daughter that for a very long time. And it was so _obvious_ that it was a name the two of you had picked out together when you were married, and I knew then that if I told you about her daughter that you would go back to her. Then what would happen to James? I was only looking out for _him_, Derek, our _son_…" She trailed off again, but this time into sobs.

And through her whole spiel, the man in his dead father's armchair had remained silent, though only one thing really even mattered: "You knew." It hadn't even needed time to sink in. It seemed to Derek that he had been waiting his whole life to hear her confess to the treacherous, heinous crime she had committed. "You've known for _five years_ that I had a daughter, but you didn't think it would be important enough to tell me? No," he was out of the seat and pacing again, clenching and unclenching his fist, "it's _worse_ than that. You _knew_ how important it was, you just wanted to _keep me from her_. This is the worst possible thing you could have ever done. You don't keep a little girl from her father just because you're afraid he might leave you for her mother. That's not up to you, Meredith."

He paused, looking for the right words to say, and Meredith seemed to take it as her turn to speak, "Derek," she sobbed into the phone, "If I could take it back, I would. If I could change things—"

"—if you could change things, you would _do nothing_ differently. Drop the act, Mrs. Shepherd, it does not become you." A deep, calming breath, then, "We're over, Meredith. We have been for a while, and you knew it. This has all been borrowed time. I will never be able to thank you enough for the son you've given me, but I never want to see you again. Ever. Goodbye, Meredith."

All he heard was a resigned sigh before he ended the call.

_It's better this way_, he told himself as he pocked the phone once more and left the living room to finish dinner. _It's been drawn out long enough. Short, succinct—that's how this ends._

o0o0o

There was no way that he could sleep that night. All of his sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, and nephews had left, and the house now belong solely to Mrs. Shepherd, Derek, Addison, Mark, Lexie, and their three children, respectively. Derek was lying in his old room, still decorated with posters of The Clash, The Sex Pistols, and The Stranglers; but no signs of sleepiness were coming. As he lay atop the full-size bed of his childhood, he wondered who else in the house was lying awake, staring out of their own window at the same moon he was. The last time he had slept in this bed, Meredith had lain beside him, and though the bed was small, the had managed not to touch. The last time—and virtually every time since—he and Addison had shared this bed, the close quarters had led to long nights of lovemaking. It felt odd, and pained him a little, to remember all the two of them had put the little old bed through, and to think that now they slept in separate rooms.

At that thought, he just couldn't lie there anymore, so he got up and pulled on his robe; the old Victorian was notorious in his family for lacking the ability to retain its heat, especially in the middle of a New York winter night. He knew where he wanted to go subconsciously, but didn't really think about where his feet took him until he wound up outside of Amelia's old room, which had been converted to a room for the kids, with bunk beds and twins now crammed inside.

He slowly turned the knob on the door and pushed it open gently, not wanting to wake the sleeping children within. And the sight on the other side of that door caused his heart to swell.

It was clear that James had started out sleeping in a twin bed with blue covers, but he had taken the matching plaid pillow over to the bed with floral print bedclothes that Carson slept under. The two children now lay close, probably huddled for warmth.

Derek sat in a spare dining chair across the room and resolved to watch his two children sleep for a while. Though he would never have been able to explain it, it seemed the right place to be, though it was after midnight. And so, there he was, observing with a small smile the two innocent, beautiful little people he had helped create. All of the drama, the secrets and the lies of the Shepherd clan were lost on them. All that mattered to _them_ was playing with the other children, sharing secrets about matters Derek couldn't even dream of with his adult mind, and remaining glued to their respective parents' hips. And Derek wondered what cruelty in the universe had placed these children in the middle of such a mess. They were four and five years old; how was it _fair_ that they should even be _involved_ in such triflings as love, marriage, and infidelity?

And as Derek thought this from his place of brooding, a small, curly-haired girl stirred in her sleep, and he heard a faint sniveling. After a moment, the sniveling was accompanied by muffled whimpering.

"Mommy?" said Carson pleadingly.

And Derek could not help himself. He was across the room in an instant, gently scooping the pajama-clad figure from the bed. His arms around her, she laid her head against his shoulder and he patted her back soothingly. Her tears soaked through his T-shirt as his own fell from his cheeks. She was five years old, yet this was the first time that he had held his daughter. He knew, in that instant, that he would do anything to keep her in his life, do anything to protect her from the world he had unknowingly brought her into.

"It's okay," he whispered in the dark, smoothing Carson's hair, "it's okay, sweetheart, Daddy has you." He knew he should not have said it, that if she at all registered what he said in her barely-awake state it would confuse her, but it seemed the natural thing to say, and he was very much through with pretending.

o0o0o

Addison stopped short at the door as she heard footsteps cross the floor. Years of practice as a single mother had honed her skill of awakening instantly at the sound of her child crying. And from two doors down, Carson's delicate call had sent her running; the poor girl's night terrors did not seem to be letting up as Violet had assured her they eventually would. But when she got to the room, she saw through the crack in the door that her ex-husband had beaten her to the draw. Her heart could not help but soften towards him as she saw the tears streaming down his face, witnessed the way he comforted her like the girl had been in his life all these years, heard the words he shamelessly whispered. And Addison knew that she had to turn away from the door, because to go any farther would be to intrude on something very private and personal for Carson and her father.

* * *

**AN: **Not very long, but I like this chapter! What did you think? Next chapter will be rated a **strong M rating**, so if you feel uncomfortable reading that, please let me know, and I will be more than happy to privately set you up with a softer version.


	14. Be the Lightning in Me

**Chapter 14: Be the Lightning in Me (That Strikes Relentless)**

**AN: **Chapter title comes from the three-part song "_The Lightning Strike_," specifically _Part One: What if this Storm Ends? _and it's from Snow Patrol's 5th album, _A Hundred Million Suns_. Definitely another song that I would recommend you find and listen to while reading!

* * *

Breakfast on Friday morning was … awkward, to say the least. Mark and Lexie seemed to be speaking again, at least civilly, but Addison would not meet anyone's eyes, and Derek kept catching Mark looking at him. The children were still in bed, which he was thankful for because even they would have been able to pick up on the tension at the table. No one as of yet knew about his calling it quits with Meredith—as far as he knew, anyway; it was difficult to tell with these people. But it was his new policy to refrain from secrets, which he used as an excuse for the way he chose to break the silence.

"Meredith and I are getting a divorce," he said conversationally before taking a bit out of his toast. "I just wanted everyone to know first hand so I'm not accused of keeping anything from anyone again. We're all one big happy family here, right?"

"Derek," said his mother from across the table, "I'm very sorry to hear this. There's no chance of reconciling?"

"Well, let's see. She knew, long before I did, about Carson and kept that information from me. And I slept with another woman, had a child with that woman, and have spent the last month in the company of her. No, we are definitely _not_ reconciling."

"What of James?" said Carolyn, looking a bit stern.

"Assuming she even would want him, I plan to fight for custody. Not _full _custody; I'm not a monster," he added at the looks he was receiving. He was beginning, though, to feel quite aggravated with his wife again, and the sentiment was evident in his tone, he knew. Why had he even put up with her behavior for as long as he had? Didn't he and James both deserve better? Didn't Meredith _herself_ deserve better?

"Please don't speak about my sister that way. She loves James." Lexie's voice was fairly low and quiet.

"Lex, I know she's your sister, but you don't see her with him the way I do. She's different. She's not like you with Sylvia, or Addison with Carson. It's not her fault, I know, but James deserves better than—"

"Let's not all start fighting again, shall we?" said Mrs. Shepherd, glancing between her son and his sister-in-law.

"I don't intend to fight, mother; I have, quite frankly, had enough of this family's drama. All of these secrets are poisoning us, and I will not be a party to a single one more." He held Mrs. Shepherd's gaze intensely, glanced briefly in Lexie's direction, and then resumed his breakfast.

"So," said Mark slowly, "you and Addison, then?"

"No," she said before Derek could respond. He looked up at her, brows furrowed. What was so wrong with him that she could not overlook? He had forgiven her, cleared her on all accounts. Were the things he had done so much worse than what she had done?

_Well, yes, probably_, he reasoned.

"I don't deserve her forgiveness," he said simply. "And perhaps it would be best to digest moving on from Meredith before jumping into anything new… or _re_newed, for that matter."

"Huh," said Mark, and Addison said, "How very unlike you."

Was he really _that_ predictable?

Breakfast was finished mostly in silence after that. The children came down at last, and Carolyn Shepherd spoiled them with a breakfast so sugary that Addison was wincing at every bite they shoveled into their mouths. Mark, Lexie, and baby Sylvia had a flight back to Seattle at eight, and so had to leave fairly soon afterward. Lexie was back to not speaking, but Derek did not much care this time because all he had done was speak the truth.

"Derek." He heard his name from behind him after he had come back inside from helping Mark and Lexie load their luggage and infant into their rental car. He was a little surprised to see Addison standing by the kitchen looking concerned.

"Hey, Addie, what's up? I see you're talking to me again." He smiled.

She sighed, arms folded across her chest, gaze fixed on the ground. "Your mom took the kids out to the museum. I told her that it would be fine with you, since we had no plans and aren't leaving til tomorrow morning, if that's okay. I just… wanted to talk."

He nodded, stepping towards her, hands clasped behind his back. "Absolutely. I—"

"I wanted to apologize," she said, cutting him off, "for yesterday. You clearly had your reasons for not telling me that you knew, and I took away your opportunity to be honest on your own terms. So… I'm sorry." The last two words came out almost in a mumble; Addison had never been very good at apologizing for the sake of apology, when there was little or nothing to be gained.

"Addie—" he began, but she cut across him again.

"Hang on. I'm not finished. I'm also sorry for not telling you about her, for pretending that she was, you know, a test tube baby… I suppose that I was just afraid that you wouldn't want her. And I was, most of all … ashamed. Not of you or her, but of myself. I was ashamed that I had let you use me like that. But I'm older and wiser now, I think. I know that you were struggling with things that I will … probably never understand."

Thunder began to roll in the distance, and Derek allotted her a moment to ensure that she was finished speaking before opening his mouth. "Addison, I should be the one apologizing to _you_. For it to even seem adequate, I estimate that I would have to apologize to you approximately twice a day for the rest of our lives. There's an equation, it's messy. Seriously, I have never felt so awfully about any one action as I feel about … not sleeping with you, I hope you don't think that … but leaving the way I did. I don't know how long exactly after you left for California that I realized I should never have let you leave … but I'm kind of glad that I did, now. We've grown so much as human beings, in the last decade apart. And if we had stayed together, where would we be? Ignoring one another, childless, back in the brownstone?" He captured her gaze intently, inches away from her. He could hear every breath she took. "I can never explain to you how sorry I am, really, for the life you've led because of me and my stupidity; my cowardice. If I could do it all over…" He felt tears swimming in his eyes now. "God damn it, Addison, I can't live without you. That's all there is to it. You are _the_ love of my life, even though it's taken half of it for me to get it through my skull. _I love you_. I mean, I am madly, passionately, over-the-moon _in love with you_, and that's been true since our very first date, and I can guarantee _will_be true until the day I die. Maybe even beyond. Who knows?"

She was silent, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. And her eyes, those purest ocean-themed eyes, blue one day or green the next, seemed to be searching for something inside of his, while he waited for what seemed an eternity for her to just _say something_. He wondered how long they would stand there like that, just searching each other's eyes for some sign of _whatever it was _that they were both looking for. Then she made a strange sound, something between a laugh and a sob. Before he could discern which it was, however, her hands were around the back of his neck, drawing him closer to her body, tears still fresh on her cheeks.

And her lips were dangerously close to his; he could feel the warmth of her breath radiating from his lips to his jawline. She had to remember that this particular position she had him in drove him _crazy _every time. Helplessly, he tried to lean in to seal the deal, but just as their lips brushed, she caught his bottom one with her teeth briefly before pulling back and giving him a surprisingly passionate, smouldering look; green eyes turned blazing as lightning struck somewhere far in the distance and rain began to crash heavily above them. She was _teasing_ him, he knew—and it was definitely _working_.

"_Addison_," he growled under his breath, pinning her to the wall she had leaned against with his body, bracing himself against the wall with palms on either side of her head.

"By the _feel_ of things," she glanced downward with a smirk, "it would seem that I've still got it. Zero to turned on in thirty seconds flat." She leaned to whisper, running a single finger around his ear as she did, down the length of his jaw, and she spoke, "Derek Shepherd, you are _so easy_."

"Only for you," he whispered back, placing lips on the exposed jugular hungrily, one hand grabbing a fistful of her hair with which to lean back her head. When she didn't protest, he pressed his luck further, trailing his lips to the collarbone. Something fierce, and almost nostalgic, awakened inside of him as he recognized the sound of her attempt to stifle a moan. Had it really been so long since the last time tat they had done this together? Or even at all, in his case at least… Now that he thought about it, it had probably been a year since he had last found time to have sex with his wife. And so he _really_ hoped that wherever this might be leading, Addison wouldn't be walking away disappointed. Which mean that it was time to pull out all the stops.

His lips traveled toward her chest as the thunder drew nearer, drinking up the creamy flesh of her breastbone. Fingers moved skillfully to the zipper of her dress, and he was grateful when she made no move to stop him slipping the straps from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. He beheld the sight before him for as long as he believed was acceptable, and was impressed by the familiar shape of her figure; the lingering perfection of her breasts and hips. Then, without even looking up, he captured her in his arms and carried her into the kitchen, placing her body upon the island countertop. She was grinning as he removed his shirt and moved to lock the kitchen door. As he moved nearer, she wrapped her legs around his waist, one hand unzipping the fly of his slacks, the other tangling in his short dark hair.

And then, finally, they were both completely free of their restraints and her lips were on his, needy and fervent, her tongue reacquainting itself with the particulars of his mouth. He allowed her dominion for a few moments, allowed her hands to slip from his hair and down his chest, toward his groin, taking control of him in ways that elicited a shuddering moan. Then when he knew she had to stop if they were to continue, he gently removed her hand from his body, planting a kiss on the palm.

He cradled her head with one hand, bracing himself against the counter with another. From there, his lips made contact with a breast, nipped it, and continued on their way southward, finally landing with her opening where they busied themselves with licking, nipping, and sucking. And he relished as her taste washed over him, time itself seeming to stop as the storms both inside and outside of the house began to unfold in pitches of electricity, heat, and magnetism. And he began to slow his pace, replacing his mouth with the skilled hand of a seasoned surgeon, as he felt the telltale ripping of her muscles, as she did all in her power to keep from screaming his name. He straightened back up to see a look he proudly recognized upon her face, and with a smile, he slid her closer to him, and found for the first time in six years the pure, unadulterated bliss that was the warmth of her body sliding over his. And for a moment, their eyes locked, stormy blues probing the greens of the ocean, lightning crashed somewhere nearby this time, and everything from there was muscle memory.

o0o0o

Some time later—perhaps minutes, perhaps hours or days—Addison was completely exhausted and drenched in sweat. She wasn't sure how they had managed to get from the kitchen counter to Derek's bedroom—to that familiar old bed—but she knew they had made stops in the living room and a bathroom, too, and that she, herself, had finished not-so-neatly a multiple times, bordering on a personal record, she was sure. She couldn't remember the last time sex had been this _good_—or varied. And as the aftermath of a thunderstorm drummed on the roof of the old Victorian, the formerly married couple lay tangled together, panting and trying to cool off.

"Well, that was irresponsible," said Derek, glancing over at her and grinning. "You'd think we would have learned our lessons by now."

"If you're referring to the fact that you didn't 'wrap your package' _again_, then now is probably a good time to tell you that I'm infertile. You used me up last time, don't worry," she added wryly.

"You mean I gave you a daughter you wouldn't trade for anything in the world," he corrected as she laid her head on his bare chest.

"Well, yes." She traced circles around his pectorals for a while, the only sounds coming from the rain and their breathing. Then she stopped as her finger found a scar it hadn't known while they had been married. His old gunshot wound, though Mark had done an excellent job reducing the scarring, was just visible near the area where she felt the thumping of his heart. "She saved you," she whispered, brow knitting together.

"What?" He seemed to not really be listening to her, but clearly lost in his own thoughts.

"When that man shot you, when you almost died, Meredith saved you." She hesitated, unsure whether to carry on with her train of thought. "Why do you think she did that?"

Derek sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I suppose because she actually loved me back then."

Addison moved away from him, propping her head up on an elbow, glancing down at him. "What changed?"

He glanced up at her, frowning. "A lot of things. Things that can't be fixed," he said simply. She could easily tell that he didn't want to talk about whatever those "things" were.

Now that the heat of their storm had cooled, responsibility and reality were beginning to reclaim their hold. "This was a mistake, wasn't it?"

His frown deepened, his brow furrowed as he considered her. "I wouldn't call it that. I don't know about you, but I had a pretty damn good time. We should do this more often, I say. Every day sounds good to me."

"Yes, but … Derek, you're married. Your son has a mother—who isn't me, don't forget. At some point, she loved you—maybe still does, and I know you say you didn't, but I think that at some point, some part of you must have loved her, too. And you—well, your track record for this sort of thing isn't very good." She mirrored his frown, hoping that he would at least understand her point of view.

His eyes narrowed somewhat. "What do you mean? Addison—you instigated this."

She bit her lip, aiming to choose her next words very carefully. "I know, I guess I got caught up… and… Well, how many times have you slept with a woman who wasn't your wife? And how many times have you then left that woman, whether after a day or after six or seven years?"

He seemed to draw away from her somewhat as he said, "Addison, I've not always made the best of decisions, but this is what I've always wanted—a family, with you. Meredith doesn't even seem to _love_ our son, and I've thought—if I've thought it once, I've thought it a hundred times—what if _we_ had had children earlier? Would I have come to Seattle at all, or would we be living the dream together right now? She was a _mistake_, Addison, perhaps a bit of a mid-life crisis. But you … you could _never_ be a mistake."

She wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or put-off by his words, so she tried to keep her face neutral as she said, "Derek, you know that I enjoyed this thoroughly. I think my vagina might have been a bit cobwebbed before," she tried to laugh, but it came out all wrong, so she redirected back to her point. "But it doesn't change the fact that you _married_ her, and she had your child. You must feel something for her, and until you make it right with her and with James, too, this can't happen again."

She made to get out of the bed then, and Derek sat up, the seriousness of the situation between the two naked people probably laughable to an outsider. "Ad, she's in Darfur, will be for another five months. What else am I supposed to do? We've agreed that it's over."

She was beginning to feel frustrated; with herself, and with him. "Look," she said as she pulled on one of his old T-shirts (The Queers), "it doesn't matter what you do, just make it right. Then … maybe we'll talk."

And that was how Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery (formerly Shepherd) went from having the best sex she had possibly ever had, to turning it down in the name of not ruining Meredith Grey's life.

* * *

**AN: **Yay, Addek squee! Lol. Sort of. I didn't want to get too graphic or keep you here all day, which I totally would have done if I had depicted them doing the deed entirely. Haha. Your thoughts/complaints/suggestions/whatever else are like gold!


	15. This Isn't Everything You Are

**Chapter 15: This Isn't Everything You Are**

**AN: **This chapter's title comes from Snow Patrol's brand new (as in, released on Sunday) song of the same name. It's beautiful, if you can find it on the internet at all. It took me some digging. And as a bit of a plug, SP's new album comes out November 14th. It's called _Fallen Empires _and you should check it out!

* * *

Instead of the customary handshake and small talk, December had reintroduced itself to Seattle with half a foot of snow, which allowed for plenty of overtime at the prestigious Seattle Grace-Mercy West Hospital, but the hospital's chief of surgery was hardly allowed any of the fun. For one, he was the chief and as such, surgeries were fairly minimal anyway. Second, he was effectively a single parent at the moment, and so a large chunk of his time not spent doing paperwork was devoted to caring for his son. And third, everyone seemed to now know that he was divorcing his good, well-liked wife who was in Sudan volunteering her time, and _wasn't-that-just-heartless-of-him?_ To make matters worse, there were some very convoluted rumors twittering around the halls about his having an illegitimate daughter, and having brought someone else to Thanksgiving dinner, and just _what_ had he been doing during those weeks in California? So, for Dr. Derek Shepherd, chief of surgery, he was lucky to have seen the inside of an OR once, maybe twice, since his return, because you couldn't just piss off nearly all of your staff and just _expect_ things to go smoothly.

He had not spoken to his ex-wife since they had shared a forcibly amicable taxi ride to the airport, as much as he might have wanted to. She had traveled back to SoCal with the first-grader in two, and Derek had boarded a flight straight through to Tacoma with his son. James spent quite a bit of time reading or playing in his father's office when he wasn't being babysat by one of Derek's various employees—namely an intern. Presently, on December the second, the biggest office on the surgical floor was where the two could be found.

"Daddy," said James without looking up from _The Foot Book_, "what happened to Carson and Aunt Addison?"

"They went back home after Thanksgiving. Back to California." Derek peered at his youngest child from his desk, his hand ceasing to scribble notes on the stack of papers in front of him.

"Yeah, I know, but … never mind…"

Derek smiled. He knew the boy too well. "Go ahead, Jamie. What's on your mind?"

"I dunno…" He put his book down then, gazing up at the senior surgeon with his mother's intense green eyes. "Well, I guess I just thought … Harry said that she was going to be my new mom, whether I liked it or not. I just thought she would come live with us if she was my new mom."

Derek's smile vanished. "Harry told you that?" The boy nodded. "He shouldn't have. Listen, James. Your mom will always be your mom. Nobody can ever replace that, as long as you believe in your heart that she loves you, okay?" Another nod. "Come here." He turned sideways at his desk and patted his knee, which the boy sat upon, looking a little confused. Derek was silent for a while, trying to find better words than those that had been running circles in his brain since Thanksgiving—perhaps even before then, should he elect to be entirely honest with himself. But no better words came, so he looked at the child in his lap and tried to smile in a brave, soothing sort of way, but he was far too overwhelmed with sadness now to manage much more than a grimace.

"You know where your mom is now, right, Jamie?"

"O'course. She's helpin' the people across the ocean. In _Africa_, but it's okay because the lions are far away from where she is," he recited.

The neurosurgeon nodded, glancing out his office window, desperate for inspiration, but there was none to be had in the gloomy whiteness outside. He would have to face this obstacle on his own. "That's exactly right. How do you feel about that? Do you miss her a lot?"

James shrugged, staring down at his hands as he fidgeted with them. "I'm supposed to, right?"

"You don't have to. What do you feel? Just tell the truth. Nobody will get mad or upset."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

James nodded, knitting his brow together in concentration. "I miss her. But sometimes… I guess I forget to. She doesn't talk to me like you do, Dad. She talks to me like I'm little and dumb and don't understand nothin'."

"'_Anything_,' not 'nothing,'" he corrected patiently.  
"Yeah, I know." He paused and Derek gave him time to collect his thoughts. Then the sharp, catlike eyes met his own steely blues, concern evident in every fleck of color, "You're not goin' to Africa too, are you, Daddy?"

"And leave you behind? You kiddin'!" He grinned squeezing the child's shoulder playfully.

But he froze when he saw the look on James's face. "That's why Mommy left, huh? 'Cause _she_ wanted to leave me behind."

Derek pulled his son to him, holding his head to his chest. "James, your mother loves you very, very much. And she'll be back before you know it. But what would you think if Mommy and Daddy had two different houses when she got back? That would be pretty cool, huh? Having two bedrooms?" His heart was pounding ashe said the words that he could never take back, the words that James Shepherd, II would probably remember for the rest of his life.

"So that means you guys are gettin' a divorce?" James nodded his dark head solemnly. "That's what Harry says happens when mommies and daddies don't love each other anymore, and then you go live with one of them and get a new mommy or daddy, and that's how come Harry said Auntie Addison would be my _new _mommy, because you love her and she's your old wife."

Derek wanted to cry—to just sit there in his comfortable and expensive office chair and bawl his eyes out like he had not done since he was a child not much older than James was now; cry until he didn't have the energy to do it anymore, until he didn't have the energy to _think_ anymore. But he knew he had to be strong for his son, at least right now. "Oh, Jamie. Don't you worry. Nobody is going to replace Mom. Not even if we get a divorce or fall in love with anybody else. We will both always love _you_, and that's what matters the most. I don't want you thinking that you did something, either. You did nothing wrong, my wonderful boy. Sometimes grown-ups just don't get along anymore and have to go their separate ways in life. Sometimes they meet other people they might want to marry, or they don't have anything to talk about anymore. But it is never, ever their children's fault. It is very important that you understand that. _Do _you understand, James?"

He shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess so. Mom loves me; she just doesn't love _you_, anymore. How come she doesn't love you?"

Derek's frown became, if possible, deeper, as he found himself searching desperately for the right thing to say again; the words that would be best for not messing James up for life. "No, no, James. Your mom and I will always love one another, but sometimes love … isn't enough. I'll always care about her, and want to make sure she's okay and happy, but tat's just it, my son; I don't make your mom happy anymore the way two married people should. And I'm thinking that one day, she'll meet someone who will make her so happy everyday, forever, that she won't even know what to do with all of the happiness inside of her. She'll have so much, she'll be able to pass it on to you. But right now she can't do that, and neither can I. So this is just what's best." Though his words were simple, Derek was not entirely sure he was actually speaking to James, but perhaps trying to make himself feel better, less guilty. Guilt had been threatening to swallow him whole lately.

"So you want Mom to be happy because she's not happy anymore… That's how come she went to Africa… But one day I'll get a new dad and then everything will be okay?" The boy seemed to be thinking very hard.

Derek was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable now. What James said was essentially true, but he was not sure they were concepts that a four-year-old should have to deal with. He had already probably laden him down with too much. "Jamie, you'll understand all of this better when you grow up, okay? All that you need to know right now is that Mommy and Daddy love you very much, even though they may live in different houses soon. Okay?"

James nodded, but still looked concerned. "Yeah, okay, I guess…"

"Alright. Now, how would you feel about some lunch?"

"Can we have hotdogs?"

"I dunno, James, you know hotdogs aren't good for you."

Normally, the boy would not have pressed the issue, so Derek was surprised to hear him say, eyes as wide as quarters, "_Please_?"

He smiled down, lifting his son to the ground. "Okay; hotdogs it is. Just this once." And as they donned their coats, hats, and gloves, Derek thought that lately, he had seen a definite change in his son, much for the better. The meek, quiet little boy was beginning to _want_ things; normal things, and learning to properly ask for them to boot. Derek was pretty sure that he knew from where James had gotten this influence, and despite everything, he could not have been happier.

o0o0o

"Alright, spill, what are you not telling us about Thanksgiving? I refuse to believe that Mrs. Shepherd just didn't say anything to you, for one. And two, you've got this spring in your step that tells me you did something you probably shouldn't have. You didn't sleep with Mark again, did you?" Naomi grimaced in a brave sort of way.

"Ew, Nai, he's married!" Addison sighed submissively. "It was Derek. I slept with Derek … again … like an idiot."

"Addie, you do realize he's married too, right? _More _married, really."

"That's what I told him. Afterward, I mean. He just had this little speech, and ... he apologized quite profusely for the way he's acted in the past, and... I want to believe him, Nai. I really, _really_ want to. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was, oh it probably sounds stupid, but I felt like I was betraying Meredith. It reminded me of how I felt after I found her panties in his jacket pocket. Who even _does t_hat?"

Naomi nodded, contemplating her coffee mug. "You're right. I know how you feel about him-trust me, I do-but I don't think that you should be sleeping with him. It seems like you and Meredith have this little club you belong to which Derek is the president of and he gets to choose which of you is the star member of the month. Actually that sounds really creepy..." She trailed off for a moment, then met Addison's eyes. "Honestly, Addie, don't take this the wrong way; you know I love Derek-but I think you and Meredith might both be better off without him. Let him find some new little intern to hero-worship him, because, seriously honey, you deserve _so _much better."

Addison knew where her friend was coming from, but she didn't think it was quite _fair _Naomi didn't see the way he looked at her, the scene on the night of Thanksgiving with Carson, or how truly sorry he seemed to be now; how much he had changed. How could she prove that to anyone who knew the way Derek had treated her in the past?

"I think you might be a bit of a hypocrite right now, Nai." She smirked. "How was _your _Thanksgiving?"

Naomi's eyes grew perceptibly larger. "Fine."

"Really? Because I would guess that it was a bit _more_ than fine from the way you and Sam have been looking at each other-or _not_ looking at each other-since you got back from Maya's."

"I honestly am not sure what you're talking about, Addie..." Naomi was glancing toward the door apprehensively.

"Was it good?"

Naomi glared, freezing with her hand on the door handle. Then she groaned resignedly. "Ugh, yes, it was good. But so, so, so wrong."

Addison smirked. "I knew it! You know, I legitimately did not know people our age were allowed to have sex this good. Especially with our own husbands-er, ex-husbands."

Naomi nodded, and Addison could tell that her friend was glad to get the little secret out of her system.

"So, you and Sam again?" asked the redhead, resigning herself to the chair behind her desk.

Naomi followed suit, settling into a chair on the opposite side and placing her mug on the desk in front of her. "No. At least, I don't think so. The sex was good; I mean, this is Sam we're talking about, but it's just something that kind of … happened." The obstetrician affixed her gaze distractedly on her lap for a moment before apparently working up enough courage to say, "He's still in love with you, Addie. I know it's not really my place to say anything or get involved, but … will you just remember that before you and Derek go riding off into the sunset?"

"Derek and I aren't riding off anywhere into anything." She really wanted it clear that she was _not _a homewrecker; that she would not put Meredith through what the aspiring neurosurgeon had put Addison through all those years ago. But, locked away in the furthermost reaches of the labyrinth of her mind, Addison knew that what she had done was hardly any better. As she sat behind her desk, a cold sensation crept upon her, starting in her expensively manicured toes, up her appropriately tanned back, turning to fire in her throat, and finally bursting free from eyes of deepest green.

"Addie, what's the matter?" Naomi's hand covered her own, but Addison was only vaguely aware. "Why are you crying? I—I'm sorry, did I say something I shouldn't have?"

Addison shook her head, trying and all but completely failing to stuff her emotions back down to her polished toes, but they barely cleared the burning lump in her throat. "No, it's not you, Nai. It's—well, it's—did you ever think we would end up here? When it was all of us back in med school? I mean, Archer's married and Mark's married-_they_ turned out to be the normal ones with the healthy relationships. How is that _fair_? It was supposed to be _us_; me and Derek, you and Sam. And now here we are, in California, _divorced_-my and Derek's daughter calls Sam 'dad' and he has a son with an _intern_ who's in _Africa_. You're worried Sam still has feelings for _me_, while I'm hooking up with my ex-husband. What the hell, Naomi!" She stood, grabbing a tissue for her eyes as she did so. "What happened to us all? We had these plans and everything was so perfect..." She sniffled, turning her back on her friend to gaze out the window. "What happened?" she repeated softly.

* * *

**AN: **On more of a personal note, this chapter was really difficult for me to write. I am the product of divorce, my parents having split when I was the same age as James. I tried to remember what that was like, my mother trying to explain that they just didn't love each other anymore, though I've shut much of it out. I've also been in a similar situation to Addison's (minus the children!), so everything going on here is quite personal to me. I even added in my favorite childhood book for James to read. Just, let me know what you think, because I believe this is the closest I've ever hit home.


	16. It's All Going to Change

**Chapter 16**

**It's All Going to Change**

**AN: **Soooo sorrrryyyyy for the ridiculous wait. Midterms and a death in the family, you know how it goes, I'm sure. Song title comes from the song _Wow_ from the album _Final Straw_.

* * *

_Meredith,_

_I hope my letter finds you well. I tried calling using the number you left, but I have, at the time of my writing this, been unsuccessful in getting through. I considered e-mail but decided against it; too impersonal. Thus, this letter. I suppose I should ask how it goes in Sudan? I have been keeping an eye and ear on news in the region. It seems things have been quiet there, lately. That's good. I worry about you, you know. So does James, though I believe _his_ biggest fear is the lions._

_You're probably wondering why I'm writing, given our last conversation. But it's nearing Christmas and I can't get out of my head how lonely you must be there. Here in Seattle, the snow has been unforgiving so far this year. Already almost two feet! James loves it, of course. I hope the picture of him in his new coat arrived safely. I was worried it might be damaged in the mail. For Christmas I thought that he might like a pet. Something more self-sufficient, given my schedule, like a cat. It would seem that I found the perfect one today at the Humane Society—a sweet little kitten whose mother was left there, pregnant. I think James will like the story, and the kitten herself. I hope you don't mind; I simply thought that he could use the company and responsibility, perhaps get his nose out of that Game Boy for a while._

_The hospital is managing well. Everyone misses you, of course. They're all pretty upset with me over this divorce thing—don't worry, I have said nothing to tarnish your reputation here. I think you may have always been right about this place, though: they really _do_ all like you better. Except Mark. Mark is mine._

_I wish you could be here with James for Christmas. And there are so many things that we need to discuss. I very much hope that you've found friends, peace, belonging, and whatever else you went searching for in the desert. I hope that you can find _you _out there._

_Until April._

_-Derek_

Meredith folded up her husband's short letter for at least the hundredth time, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She knew that what she was doing was, in all likelihood, not a good idea, but it was her only shot. She wasn't even sure that she truly wanted her son's father back, or if it was the comfort zone of the way things had been that she missed. She knew that they had been fooling themselves for a very long time—and in more ways than one; knew that he had a secret daughter with his ex-wife; knew that he had never really gotten over the redhead—probably better than Derek knew, himself. And she knew that she had messed up—badly, in fact. But this was her _life_, and she was not going to lay down and let Derek Shepherd make these decisions for her. He had done that for far too long: it had been _his_ decisions for her to carry out James's pregnancy; his decisions to get married; his decisions for her to take all those long, excruciatingly boring months off from work on maternity leave; his decision to scrap the house-building project and instead renovate her mother's home... Her entire life for the past ten years had been comprised almost entirely of decisions that her husband had made. And on Thanksgiving, he had made the decision for them _both_ that all those past decisions had essentially been for naught. She had let him all but direct her biggest life choices, and what for in the end? A divorce? She just _could not_ sit idly by anymore. Now was time to act.

That was how she found herself paying the taxi driver at six o'clock p.m. on Christmas Eve, lugging her luggage up the front steps, and knocking on her own front door.

She stood there for a moment waiting for an answer. She knew that Derek was inside by the fact that is Rover was parked outside. She also noticed a car she did not recognize, but seemed vaguely familiar. Then she heard small feet running to the door and smiled, glad that James would be the one to greet her, wondering how excited he would be.

But when the door flung open, a different face greeted her, though not so different from the one she had expected. It was a face she instantly recognized from a single photograph shown to her several years ago. The hair, the lips, the confused smile, the ears, cheekbones, and jawline of her husband mingled with the nose and eyes of a redheaded surgeon she now suspected to be inside her home.

"Hello," said Carson Montgomery. "Who are you?"

Meredith managed a small smile—after all, the girl's existence might be responsible for the end of her marriage but it wasn't the child's fault. "Hi there. I'm James's mommy, Meredith. Are your parents home?" The question seemed a safe way to gauge her relationship to Derek.

"Um. My mom is here. And—uh, Uncle Derek. James is here too!" The little girl grinned, and it pained Meredith to see the smile of her husband and son reaching up into the eyes of Addison Montgomery.

It was then that she heard more movement coming from the living room, where she could hear the television going. "Carson, you know better than to just open the door like—" Derek stopped short when he saw her in the doorway.

"Hey," she managed. "Surprise!"

o0o0o

He frowned, freezing in the hallway. "You got my letter," was all he could say. His eyes fell on his daughter. "Go watch TV, Carson. And _don't_ tell James, it's a surprise." The girl obeyed, seeming to sense the tension between the adults.

"So that's her, huh? Your … first-born." She looked away s the last word fell from her lips.

Derek sighed audibly, placing his hands on his hips. "Do you need help with that?" He dodged his wife's question, nodding toward her bags instead.

"Um. Sure." She heaved one up and Derek grabbed the other two, kicking the door shut behind him. "You said, in your letter, that you wished I could be here. So, here I am. I was able to make it home for Christmas." Her voice sounded fragile and uncertain.

In all truthfulness, that was precisely how Derek felt himself. He had no idea how to handle this situation; had not expected to have to handle it for several months. But here she was, his biggest problem, ridiculously under-dressed for the weather because she had not packed sweaters for the desert, of course.

"Let's get your things upstairs," he said distractedly, walking in the direction of the steps. He glanced into the living room as he passed by, and breathed a sigh of relief to see that everyone was watching television. He could sense that a storm was about to pass over his home on that Christmas Eve. At the landing he struggled unsure of where to place his estranged wife's baggage. Addison was in the spare room, Carson was sharing with James, and he preferred to have his room to himself. This was not easy; there was nowhere for her to sleep. He couldn't just turn her away from her own home on Christmas; what would he say to James? And he had promised Addison that Carson would spend the holiday with her father...

He would just have to take the couch. He was on Santa duty, anyway. So, he dropped Meredith's bags in their bedroom and quickly returned to the entrance hall, where he felt a pang of guilt. The petite blonde wore a strange look, and Derek could not imagine how she must feel—which he took as another cue that they no longer "belonged" together.

"I hope you're not here to try and win me back," he stated when they were face-to-face again.

Meredith's eyes narrowed. "You're so selfish, Derek. Will that ever change about you?" She paused, seeming to search his eyes for something. "I'm here to spend Christmas with my son. It's painfully lonely out there sometimes, Derek. And anyway … I've met someone."

"You've met someone." He repeated her words, mostly because they were so unexpected. "What do you mean? Who?"

"His name is William. William Hart. He's a psychiatrist who's serving with me."

If anyone had asked, Derek would have sworn that he felt something physically click inside his head. "_Are you fucking him_?" He was barely able to keep his voice lower than the children down the hall could hear.

Meredith's jaw dropped open somewhat, apparently surprised. Then she seemed to recollect herself, a glare forming on her face as she whispered, "How long have you had your wedding band off?" He saw her glance at his left hand, folded with his right over his chest.

"Oh, don't try to dodge the question. Just answer me."

"I'm not dodging! _For how long have you not been wearing your ring_?"

Derek could not help but roll his eyes, though he answered nonetheless. "A few weeks," he said shortly.

"Then you've not had any right to ask who I'm fucking for a few weeks now. End of story."

Derek's jaw was set, brows darkening his sky-blue eyes like storm clouds. He exhaled, quite irritated, to say the least of his feelings. "So why aren't you with him, this psychiatrist?"

"I thought that we could spend Christmas together, for James. I thought he might miss me..."

"He doesn't." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that he should not have said them. All he could do, though, was frown. The seconds seemed to stretch to minutes and the minutes into hours as they both stood there, neither knowing where to go next after a statement like that.

"Meredith, I'm sorry," he said at last, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I didn't mean that. Do you want me to go get him?"

She nodded, though Derek could see no trace of emotion, positive or negative, anywhere on her face. When he entered the living room, he saw Carson sat in the floor watching_ The Wizard of Oz_ and James was stretched out on the couch, head in Addison's lap, asleep. The redhead herself absently stroked his dark hair, just as engrossed in the film as her daughter. Derek smiled softly, heart seeming to swell in his chest. What a perfect scene, nearly identical to something he had seen in a dream many years ago. He thought that he might be just as happy to stand in the archway watching this one moment, frozen in time, forever.

But with a slight sinking sensation around his abdomen, he remembered that he was _not_ in the midst of a dream, as was Judy Garland on the television screen, but in the middle of a Very Big Problem.

"Meredith's here," he whispered so as not to wake the child, eyes finding Addison's and holding them steadily.

"Oh," she said, and he did not fail to notice that she sounded a bit crestfallen. "Should I—"

He shook his head before her sentence was finished. "No. She's only here to see James... she says. You and Carson are more than welcome here; you were invited. And it's the two of you—plus Jamie, of course—that I want with me on Christmas this year." Addison glanced away, and Derek took that as his chance to move toward them. "I'd rather not wake him up … he looks so peaceful. But she wants to see him."

Addison nodded, glancing down at the sleeping boy in her lap. "Jamie?" The sight of the child's awakening was like torture; if only things could stay the way they looked now... If only none of the evening they had shared had to end. "Hey, sweetie, your dad has a big Christmas surprise for you."

James stirred sleepily, long-lashed eyes fluttering open slowly. "What is it?" he asked of the redhead, making no move to get off of the couch.

"Come see." Derek smiled down at his son.

"It's your mom," said Carson from her spot on the rug. "She looks nice."

"Carson, I told you not to tell him." Though his voice was harsh, Derek was not terribly upset. He simply was not going to let a five-year-old walk all over him—not the way that Addison did most of the time.

The girl knitted her brows together. James froze, unable as of yet to show any emotion of his mother's return, and Addison glanced toward Derek with a strange look on her face.

"Derek, you don't have to—I can manage her—"

He frowned, unsure of what to say. He opted for silence this time; there were more pressing issues at hand. "Come on, James. Your mother's waiting by the door to see you.

As the boy finally exited, Derek turned with hands on hips to glance at Addison. She opened her mouth with some sort of pained, guilty look on her face, but the neurosurgeon only shook his head. "Later."

"Hey, James!" his wife was saying, bending slightly to hug her son. "You've gotten big."

"Yeah, Dad had to buy me a new coat. It's got a big ol' whale on it, you wanna see?"

Derek saw the blonde smile a small smile. "Yeah. I would. Do you want to show me now?"

James glanced backward at his father. "Um. After the movie goes off?"

Derek nodded, and Meredith gave her okay, though he was very aware that she was not meeting his eye.

"Are you sure this is what you want? You're sure you're ready?" he asked of her after James had disappeared again.

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Derek. I mean, I have no idea what to expect. What's been going on? I'm so … left out in all of this."

He bit the inside of his jaw, contemplating what to tell her, what _not _to tell her. "A lot of things are different."

"Yeah, seems like you're really moving on." She paused. "You and Addison?"

He shook his head, sighing, completely bewildered by that subject. "I don't know. Maybe eventually. Not right now though... It's complicated." He stopped talking when he noticed the tears in her eyes. "Oh, don't. Don't even start feeling sorry for yourself, when you've got the psychiatrist."

His wife's face turned ugly for a moment, scary, even. "You're really comparing a little fling to this—to her? You seriously think that keeping some company in that God-forsaken place is the same as spending all your time with your ex-wife and lovechild? That what I've got is anywhere near 'it's complicated?' I know what that means, Derek. _I'm_ the complication, she's just too good of a person to let you do that to me. Jesus, what do you think I am? Because there was a time when the tables were turned. And you need to know, right now, that I would and will do anything to keep you—you and James. So, here I am. And to answer your earlier question? No, I'm not here to win you back. I'm here to talk some sense into you, to make sure you are aware that subservient to you though I've been in the past, this is _my life_ _too_, and I do _not_ intend to just give it up without a fight. So. Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

* * *

Thanks for reading thus far! Sixteen chapters, wow. Hardly feels like it!


	17. Batten Down the Hatch

**Chapter 17  
Batten Down the Hatch**

**AN: **The wait was _much_ longer than I hoped it would be. This chapter and the next two were originally written as one really big, twelve-page chapter, which I hate to do. It felt rushed, so I broke it down into three parts and rearranged some things to steady out the continuity. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

Addison was definitely not comfortable with the situation at hand. She sat on the far end of one of the two sofas in the living room, with Derek next to her and Meredith on his other side. Though she dare not chance a glance at either of their faces, she was sure that the neurosurgeons were also feeling quite awkward. In fact, she wasn't sure she could really even decide who this situation must be the worst for. And if it wasn't her? Then whomever it was must be burning to cinders on the inside, because Addison herself felt like she might explode with all that needed saying in a situation as strange as this.

"Hey, Mom. Can I have some shoes like that?" Carson pointed, neck craned backward toward her mother, at Dorothy's ruby red slippers.

"Those are very pretty, huh? We'll try to find you a pair for your birthday, okay?" The words were out of her mouth before she could properly consider them. She saw Derek glance sideways at her very briefly, then turn back to the film. All she could do was try very hard to keeper her attention affixed to the television on the wall.

But it was too late. "Carson, when's your birthday?" James was asking from next to her on the floor.

"January the … uh..."

"Fourth. January the twenty-fourth," Addison supplied for the girl.

"You didn't tell me her birthday was so soon," murmured the man next to her.

"Yeah, well... You never asked." She really did not mean for the words to come out so coarsely, but sometimes the fact that he _knew_, yet it took him so long to make contact, got to her again.

It was at that point that Meredith stood up. Addison looked toward the TV to see that the movie had ended. "You ready to go show me that jacket, James?"

The boy stood quickly, grinning. "Yeah! C'mon, Carson, you can show my mom those new Barbies my dad got you!"

Derek stood too, then, looking at Meredith as he began to speak before shifting his gaze onto his son. "Carson will be up soon. I'm sure your mom wants to spend some time with you just the two of you before bed, okay, Jamie?"

He seemed to wait until they were safely upstairs to speak again. "I sold our bed."

Addison blinked, confused. "You did what?"

"I sold our bed. Someone came and picked it up last Thursday. I put out an ad on Craigslist, and now some couple last name Kirkendale are probably sleeping in it." He seemed far too distant to reach as he confessed this to her, pale eyes looking past her at something she could not see. "I bought a new bed. It's virtually the same, but it's _mine_. No negotiating, no discussion, no fighting over the type of wood... I just picked something out and bought it." He finally met her eyes, nodding slightly.

"Derek … why are you telling me this?"

"It's really over, isn't it? Agreeing on a price for the bed you conceived your son in—that's kind of a big deal, right?"

"What does that mean? Con … con-seeved?" said Carson from the floor, staring up at the two adults.

Addison could feel her ears go red. It was probably a silly response, especially since she was an obstetric surgeon of the politically progressive persuasion, but for one, she did not want to think about Derek and Meredith having sex more than she had already had to in her life; two, the word "conceived" reminded her how interconnected the three people in the room were—which led her to remember the night Carson was created in embarrassingly vivid detail; and three, her five-year-old daughter should not be worrying about conception.

Derek gave her an apologetic look, then knelt so that he was Carson's height. "'Conceived' means that someone is going to have a baby." Addison could tell that in spite of being a father already and an uncle to fourteen kids, he had never had this particular conversation. She let him continue, mainly out of curiosity for what he would say.

"Wait … you don't have a baby in the bed though. You have babies at the hospital. I know, because _that's_ what _my_ mom does."

"Hm, true enough. But babies have to start somewhere, don't they?" said Derek, and Addison was amused by the heightened nervousness in his voice.

Carson only shrugged, a confused expression on her face.

"I think it might be time for bed. What do you think, Car?" she said when the distinct sound of Meredith leaving James's room and shutting the door behind her own could be heard.

She was still staring suspiciously at Derek as she nodded slowly. "Wait … I don't wanna go to bed!"

"The faster you're asleep, the faster Santa will be here," Derek told her, standing. "C'mon. I'll tuck you in."

Carson smiled. "Okay," she agreed, reaching for his hand. "Are you coming, Mommy?"

Addison nodded as her ex-husband hoisted their daughter upward onto his hip, tickling her ribs and laughing as the girl squirmed in his arms.

When they reached the bedroom, James was already out like a light in the full-size bed. Derek gently pulled the covers back and settled Carson into them, tucking her in carefully and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered, stroking a strand of hair out of her face, placing it behind her ear.

"Good night, Uncle Derek. I love you," said Carson through a yawn, stretching then settling in.

Addison and Derek stopped at the doorway, Derek's fingers hovering above the light switch. Addison could see an odd, contented look fall over his face at the girl's words. "I love you too, Carson. Sweet dreams."

"You're really good with her," Addison observed after the door was shut.

Derek smiled at her, but she could see that he was only just holding back tears. It was understandable; after all, his daughter _had_ just said "I love you" to him for the first time. "It's … easy, really. I thought, when I came to California, that it would be difficult, that she might hate me. It's not like that at all, though." They stopped outside the door to the guest bedroom Addison was staying in. "Do you need tucking in as well?"

She crinkled her nose at him. "No, I think I can manage on my own, actually."

"As you wish it." He grinned, reciting a line from an old favorite film of theirs, and Addison was sure she saw the gleam of mischief in his eyes as he did so.

"Good night, Derek," she said, returning his smile softly and opening the door to her bedroom.

"'Night, Adds. See you in the morning."

o0o0o

"Sleeping on the job, I see."

Derek woke with a start, everything pitch black in the predawn winter hours. He illuminated the face of the watch on his wrist to see that he was nearly an hour behind schedule.

"Mmmm," he groaned, squinting in the direction from which the voice had come, but not really able to make much out yet. "Must not have heard my alarm."

"Your phone's dead," said the tall silhouette across the room. Squinting, he could see that Addison was still in her pajamas. "Mark called me. Something about a cat? Anyway, he said to tell you to, quote, 'get your sorry as out of bed and let him in the door.'"

"He has a key," mumbled Derek to no one in particular as he sat up sleepily on the sofa, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark. "Sorry if he woke you up."

"Not your fault. And I wasn't asleep, anyway."

"Yeah, I've a feeling you're not the only one." There was silence for a moment before he continued, "Listen, Addison, I'm sorry about Meredith. I had no idea she was going to just drop in like that. She never even responded to my last letter."

"Again, not your fault, Derek. Though I have to say, I'm not sure that I have any idea why I'm still here. It would seem that Carson and I are only invading the happy reunion of a family."

Derek shook his head, pushing blankets off of him. "It's hardly 'happy.' I'm sure you saw that. I don't know why she's here; I told her it was over. There is no coming back from hiding my daughter from me."

Addison said nothing as Derek got off the couch and found the light switch. Then, looking toward the window and decidedly away from him she said, "_I_ hid your daughter from you."

"Oh, Addie. Let's not do this right now. It's Christmas."

"It's true, though. How is what I did any better than what she did?" Derek did not like the look on her face. It held guilt and frustration and so many other emotions that, in his opinion, had no business being anywhere near a face so beautiful. He hardly heard her words for the overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and erase the troubles weighing down her eyes, mouth, and brows.

"That's different. No, don't look like that, I'm serious. She was purely self-motivated. She kept this huge secret from me, from everyone, because she did not want change. Not because she loves me or James, or because she was worried about you or Carson, but because Meredith is only interested in Meredith." He paused when those words fell from his lips. "Jesus, when did she become like that? Was she always that way?"

Addison grimaced. "I believe that I might be the wrong person to ask."

"Yes. I suppose so." He smiled, considering her. "You are … a very good person, Addison. Why did I ever let you get away?"

She tilted her head to one side slightly, arms folded over her chest. "You needed this. You needed space, time, mistakes... Seattle and James, forgiving me, forgiving Mark, making an attempt to move on—I think it was all important for you; for us."

"So there's an 'us' now?" He smirked, leaning against the wall he had been standing next to.

"Oh, no, Derek. There _was_ an 'us.' There is only an 'us' now in the sense that we have a daughter together, and that's all."

Derek only continued to smile. This, he knew, was temporary. It had to be; he had not forgotten what she said in New York. "Alright. Whatever you say." He glanced at his watch. "When did Mark say he would be here?"

"He didn't. And what's this about a cat?"

"Oh, I got the kids a kitten for Christmas. Mark's been pet-sitting until 'Santa' could drop it off." His smile widened unconsciously, an antiquated defense mechanism left over from eleven years of marriage, brought out of his arsenal only when he needed to appear innocent.

"The kids?"

"Mhm. James, Carson... The kids. You know, for when she comes to visit or … whatever."

"You got a cat. For four- and five-year-old children—the children of surgeons. You do realize that cats can live for like twenty years, right? They'll be out of college! Jeez, do you never think things through, or are you all impulse all the time?"

Derek could not help but laugh. "Why would you care, Addison? I mean, it's not as though we live together... When they graduate, I'll be the only one shouldering any responsibility for the elderly, possibly senile cat, right?"

"You're ridiculous." But she was smiling, and Derek quite liked what he saw behind that smile.

"I was thinking," he said after the moment had passed and Addison had sat on the couch nearest the wall he leaned against, "that perhaps we could tell Carson soon. I want—maybe this is selfish—but I want a relationship with her. And not this 'Uncle Derek' business. I want to be her _father_. I want the legal papers, for her to call me 'Dad,' to catch up on all we've missed, to … to walk her down the aisle one day. I want my children to know they have each other, Addison. To know they're not alone."

After what seemed an eternity to Derek, she said slowly, "Okay." Then, "This is clearly something you really want. And I could never in the way of your—your parental rights. And I want those things for you, too, but … well, first of all, Carson already knows."

"You mean you told—"

"Of course not," she interrupted before his temper could rise. "She figured it out ages ago, during the first week you were in California."

Derek nodded, unsure how to take this latest piece of information. "At least she inherited your power of observation," he joked. "How did she take it? And furthermore, how did you keep her quiet?"

Addison laughed. "She was very mature about it, actually. Asked if she still had to call Sam 'dad' and I told her that was up to her. And I asked her to just keep calling you 'Uncle Derek' for now, until I could tell you that you're her father... Oh, I hope we aren't screwing our children up for life, Derek."

"I think they'll be fine. Kids have a way of bouncing back, and no one's childhood is perfect. Look at us. I … saw my father murdered, and I know growing up with Bizzy and The Captain for parents wasn't exactly picturesque for you and Archer."

"And we're supposed to be _good_ examples of the products of broken homes?"

Derek shrugged. "Becoming a world-class surgeon isn't something to sneeze at. Don't worry. They'll be okay. Things will work out well, and they won't even remember that this was an issue."

"I'm not so sure about that much, but I suppose it's not helping anyone to sit around and worry about it," she conceded, though the look of concern never left her face.

Derek could not stand to see her appearing so pained. He never could, even after she cheated on him; it had always been his weakness. He moved away from the wall and came to stand in front of her, proffering a hand.

She looked up and chuckled, but she took his hand, standing. He sometimes forgot how very tall she was, always matching his height even when wearing only house slippers. And even now, as he pulled her into his chest, he thought she was gorgeous—no makeup, bedhead, and pajamas with candy canes on them. She was perfect, arms wrapped securely around his waist and tears staining his navy T-shirt. This moment, this particular hug, felt like a step in the right direction for Derek; how long had it been since she had just let go and allowed herself to cry into someone's shoulder? How long since she had actually let loose with anyone?

"We should dance," he whispered into her hair after the sobs had subsided.

"There's no music. And it's four a.m.," she reasoned, not moving her head from its place on her shoulder.

He smiled, though she could not see it, then started to sway their bodies as he sang, just under his breath and probably horribly out of tune, "I may not always love you, but 'long as there are stars above you, you never need to doubt it; I'll make so sure about it." She was laughing in earnest now as he shuffled his feet, putting space enough between their bodies to fall into a sort of waltz.

"God only knows what I'd be without you," he sang, making sure to meet her eyes. He hoped that she remembered—how could she possibly forget?—that this had once been their song, one they had danced to at their wedding and made out to in his car some two decades ago.

"If you should ever leave me, though life would still go on, believe me, the world could show nothing to me, so what good would livin' do me?" He grinned when she sang along, though he could only just hear her. "God only knows what I'd be without you," he all but whispered, resting his forehead against hers, ceasing their impromptu dance.

Her eyes closed, and he knew what she was thinking because he was thinking it, too; it was the same thought that always came to mind when they played that song: he should kiss her. And oh, how very much he wanted to. But, he was determined to be the person his dance partner seemed to believe him to be.

"Merry Christmas, Addie," he whispered, pulling his head from hers and planting a small, slightly lingering kiss to the spot where his forehead had just rested. "I'm glad you're here."

* * *

**AN: **The song Derek sings is _God Only Knows_ by The Beach Boys and it's from their wonderful _Pet Sounds_ album. It's always been an Addek song to me, and I hope you'll agree with my usage of it. I chose to use it now mainly because it worked so well, but also because the long-lost, forty-years-in-the-making Beach Boys album, _SMiLE_ was released this month, so that's my own little homage.

Chapter title comes from the song of the same name by Snow Patrol (whose new album is out today as well!). I chose it for the most part because it includes the line "_God only knows / what Brian Wilson meant_" and is just so desolate yet pretty—much like Addek themselves, heh. (Brian Wilson is the author of the song _God Only Knows _and genius behind The Beach Boys, if you weren't aware.)


End file.
